Lost Minds
by sissi.huys
Summary: Lexie becomes more and more indulged in Dark Magic, even trying out some Unforgivables. Janice finds herself doing stuff for no reason at all. Claire finds out the perks of being with Cedric. Bella makes a bet that could make her year a miserable one. Four friends, losing their minds and what else? Part 4/7 in Lost-series
1. Revelation

**Hey, everyone who is still reading this! I love you so much and thank you for reading this. Year 4 has a lot of things in store for everyone, including a few new characters and loads of new plotlines aside Harry's! This chapter is not so very long but merely a summarizer of events that happened in the holidays, how the girls have evolved and how puberty is definetely going on now.  
**

* * *

_**Ch. 1 Revelation**_

POV JANICE DIGGORY:

"Morning everyone," I yawned when I entered the kitchen.

Uncles Amos and Cedric were sitting at the table, and my mother was frying some bacon. She liked to do it without magic, because she's always loved cooking. Cedric was so excited for today he was practically jumping up and down in his chair.

"What are you going on about, boy?" asked Uncle Amos curiously.

"It's only a birthday, Ced," I giggled, but I thought it was super cute he was so nervous.

"I'm going to meet her mom today," Cedric said. "That's tremendously important."

"Emma Gibbs is an amiable woman," said my mother soothingly, "you'll love her."

"Yeah, if she's Claire's mom she's got to be great," my cousin continued, "but what if she doesn't like _me_?"

'You're my son, she'll have to like you," Uncle Amos laughed.

"But what if she doesn't?" Cedric retorted.

"Just be yourself, Ced, it's not Claire's _mom_ you're going to have to worry about," I laughed. "I am, however, concerned about how her cousin Lavender will act."

"Why?" inquired Cedric nervously.

"Claire's never had a boyfriend before and Lavender's bound to freak out over it."

Cedric blushed.

"She's really never had a boyfriend before?"

"It's not that odd," I said, "considering she is a few years younger than you are."

My mom passed me toast with three slices of bacon, and my special little black cup. My 'medicine cup.' Uncle Amos had taken it upon himself to make me Wolfsbane every month. He'd had some difficulty with my condition at first, but my mother had convinced him to help me. I drank the horried fluid and wrinkled my nose, sticking out my tongue.

"Pity sugar makes it useless," my mother said.

After breakfast, I went upstairs, to get dressed. I chose a flowery white dress, combed my hair and put on some nude lipstick. I'd never worn make-up before, but I was starting to feel more and more uncomfortable and left out without it.

Cedric was still nervously checking himself up in the mirror, and I had to drag him out, to Claire's house.

"Stop fussing," I whispered, "you'll be just fine."

Claire opened the door herself, looking more confident than she had in a while. She wore a light pink dress, had her curls in a braid on her left shoulder; as she liked them, and she wore a little silver infinity necklace that Cedric had given her.

"Hey, you're one of the last ones," she said, "come in."

"Congrats, love," said Cedric, wrapping her in a big hug and giving her a butterfly kiss on the lips.

I absolutely loved the two of them together.

"Janice, I'm so glad you came!" said Claire after, giving me a hug.

Cedric smiled nervously at her so she took his hand and led him towards her mother. I decided to leave them be and enter the living room, where Lexie and Bella were waiting.

Bella had fully recovered and apparently decided to change her appearance drastically. She had dyed her copper-coloured hair jet-black and wore her hair in a high ponytail, so the piercing in her ear was clearly visible.

"What do you think?" said Lexie, eyeing her as well. "She looks like a girl Harry, doesn't she?"

"I do _not_ look like a girl Harry!" Bella objected, but I had to agree, now they had not only similar eyes, but the same hair colour as well.

"You could have passed for his sister," I laughed, looking at Lexie.

Lexie had stayed roughly the same, blonde hair, blue eyes, snow-white skin, only she had made it clear she was no little girl anymore. She was wearing a shirt with a deep cleavage and a miniskirt to show off her feminine, curvy body.

Then the doorbell rang. I grinned, Cedric groaned. That had to be Lavender and her mom.

* * *

POV LEXIE JONES:

Claire was laughing and holding Cedric's hand as Lavender entered the room and practically started screaming with delight. It felt good to see Claire so happy.

"Oh my god! Oh my good god! You're dating him! You're dating Cedric!" Lavender had said frantically, as though Cedric wasn't even there.

The lad seemed quite embarrassed. I had almost felt sorry for him, if it hadn't been for the fact this was so incredibly amusing.

I looked at Bella, who was just grinning and toying with the ringlet in her ear. It was quite a change, but I had to admit that it looked good on her. Her parents had tried to kill her, though, but then Bella kindly reminded them of the fact that all they would have had to do was stop giving her her medicine and changing her bandages.

"Shall we go upstairs?" Janice asked suddenly. "There's something I want to talk to you about."

"Okay, girls, up we go!" Bella said, getting excited already.

She and I were no different when it came to that, we just needed a new juicy story to complain about once in a while.

"We can't leave Cedric down here with Lavender," Claire whispered, so her cousin wouldn't hear her.

"Well, Lav won't mind, will she?" I grinned.

"I wasn't talking about Lavender," Claire said, the corner of her mouth tilting upwards.

Cedric looked like he was struggling through this, his handsome face red and his hands nervously running through his dark curls.

"Shouldn't you be getting to know your future in-laws, Cedric?" I said, just for the fun of it.

Cedric and Claire both turned brick red and Bella burst out laughing.

"That's quite enough for today, don't you think?" Janice muttered. "By the way, it's okay if Ced comes along, he knows already."

Bella fake-gasped and laid a hand on her heart in mock-indignancy.

"After all we've been through-"

"I- he was there, that's all!" said Janice, taking the jape as a personal insult.

Her angular face took the expression it usually wore; fear. Her hair had brushed her shoulder before the end of last term but she'd cut it again in the holidays.

I had grown taller and more shapely, Claire had gained a little weight again and was starting to regain some of her confidence as well, with which Cedric had helped immensely, of course. She was wearing a bit of mascara as well and her curls shone, a sign she was taking care of herself again.

Bella had changed even more drastically, and not only on the outside. Yes, she'd dyed her hair black, yes, she'd gotten a piercing, but she was more mature than ever. (Though that didn't make much difference as she was still probably the most childish and irresponsible of all of us.)

I think her chats with Sirius in the woods last year were a contributing factor, even whilst never knowing what he told her. I was sure of one thing; the words had made an impact on her. Bella had jumped in to save the man, but even impulsive as she was, she wouldn't have given her life for anyone.

It was like Sirius had given her a wake-up call of some sort and she knew- well, I don't know what she knew but she had grown a lot wiser. I could see it in her eyes. Not even her eyes had stayed the same.

But Janice was practically the same. Still plain old, sweet old Janice Diggory. Her face was still tanned, the same angular face with frankly gorgeous bone structure and a shiny sleek black bob one could compare to Cho Chang. Besides from the fact that Cho's hair brushed her lower back, same as mine own hair.

Only since Janice was bitten, an immense sadness haunted the almond-shaped brown eyes I had always loved so much. I had always been able to read Janice like a book. Especially because of her eyes. But now her chocolate orbs told the story of agony.

* * *

POV BELLA MCLAGGEN:

"Now, get it off your chest, then!" I demanded, letting my piercing go.

The piercer had told me to keep moving it every once in a while.

"You can't promise us a story and then don't tell it!"

"Not here," Janice hissed, pointing at Claire's family.

"Let's all go upstairs then," Claire suggested. "Cedric too," she added pointedly to Lexie, who smirked at her.

Lexie still was the arrogant Slytherin snake as she had always been, but more than ever I knew I never wanted to lose her.

Malfoy's scheme had wounded her dearly, her pride as much as her heart, though she would never let us show it, no. I had once thought her emotionless, but now I knew how strong she really was.

But I bet she had also known there was no place for her grief next to Claire's still partly unresolved misery, Janice's wolf-doom, Harry's godfather-issues, my near-fatal accident, Hermione's busy year or Ron's pet trouble. Sometimes it was almost like she was ashamed to show that she cared, that she wanted to be above that. _Emotions are for normal people_, something like that.

Claire's room had- like herself- been restyled and looked much better now. The walls were a light purple, the floor fluffy and white, the curtains flowery and everything smelled like lavenders. I flopped down on her bed and lay down. Then I heard a gasp.

"What?" I said, not bothering to get up.

"Bella-" Janice stuttered. "Bella, the scar- oh my, did I do that?"

My shirt had gone upward slightly, revealing my belly and also the ugly scar across it.

"Uh, nope," I said quickly, dismissing it with a wave of my hand, "I'm pretty sure that was Lupin."

"Sure," laughed Lexie, sitting down on the bed too and smiling at me.

Claire and Cedric took the big dark purple loveseat so Janice was stuck with just walking in circles nervously.

"Well?" I said impatiently, spreading my arms and making little bed angles.

"Well…" started Janice nervously, suddenly giggling. "Well, I don't know when to start."

"Start with when you met him," said Lexie boredly.

"W-what?" Janice uttered, shocked. "How did you know it was about a him?"

I sat up straight and grinned at my blonde friend.

"Yes, how did you know, Sherlock?"

She rolled her eyes at the nickname, but then started explaining, "Janice, you're walking around like a madman. Oscillation always means there's a love affair. Plus, your pupils have dilated, and your breathing has quickened, suggesting you've got a higher pulse, which means you like this guy, whoever he is."

"Are you serious?" Cedric said before he could stop himself.

"She's always been like this," Claire explained. "She was the Sherlock, I was the unsociable nerd, Janice was the sweet, innocent little girl and Bella was the rebel. That's how it's always been, our little clan of four."

"Only, know we've adopted another nerd, her ginger boyfriend and a celebrity," Lexie stated, "exactly."

"Well, if it's about a guy I'm even more curious," I said to Janice. "So get on with it."

Janice blushed brightly, but she was still smiling.

"Well, because of my condition, my mom and uncle decided it maybe was a good idea to take me someplace quiet for the holidays, to get my mind off of things," she explained. "We went to this small, nearly abandoned village somewhere in Germany. It was a pretty place, really, but there were only 300 inhabitants. Then I met this guy, Martin."

"What does he look like?" Lexie interrupted her.

"He was my age, thought a lot taller than me," Janice said. "He was short-chopped dark blonde hair, green-greyish eyes and freckles on and around his nose."

"Sounds all right," I said, nearly inaudible.

"He plays piano, you see," she continued, "and because it was such a small village, it meant a lot of interaction with the civilians. I met him in a sort of community centre, and he was playing there. I knew the song, and before I knew it I had sort of started singing along with it."

"And then?" Claire said, obviously liking where this story was going.

She wouldn't want us to know, but I knew she was a hopeless romantic. But, according to Janice, so was Cedric, so they were just fine together.

"Martin stopped playing suddenly," Janice said. "He started walking toward the noise and I was so scared I was frozen on the spot. When he found me he started saying something in German, but when he noticed I didn't understand him, he-"

"So wait a second," I interrupted. "You obviously don't speak German. But how did you two communicate? Did he speak English?"

"Barely," Janice admitted. "The town was a small one, as I said, with hardly any tourists. But, you know, it didn't matter that much in the end. That moment he just shrugged, took my hand and seated me next to him at the piano. When he played songs that I knew I sang along, and when he played old German songs I would just listen and stare into his eyes."

* * *

POV CLAIRE GIBBS:

Cedric and I looked at each other. I knew we thought the same. _That story was so beautiful, so romantic._ Before I knew it, Cedric leant in and kissed me, and I kissed him back, forgetting there were others present, that is, until Bella coughed. I glared at her, but she just gave me a very smug smile.

"Get a room, you two."

Luckily Lexie jumped to my defence.

"Is Ickle Bella an itty bitty jealous?" she pouted.

"Shut up," Bella just said, getting red.

"Did I miss anything?" Janice said, clueless as ever.

"Bella got friendzoned-"

"Lexie was fooled by Malfoy-"

It took very little time for them to realize they had gotten too far. Both of them.

"Will you please stop this child's play and think before you say something like that?" I said, the undertone in my voice so threatening I could have shouted it as well. "Every year you fight, you make up and then fight again. Enough's enough. God, I thought you'd grown past this, especially last year."

Bella and Lexie were both too proud to look guilty or apologetic, but Bella's face showed it whilst Lexie's mask showed nothing.

"Apologize," I demanded.

"I shouldn't have said that," said Lexie, oddly enough she was the one to start. "You never said anything about me and Draco, I shouldn't have said anything about you and- you know. I was just as bad as Michael at that point."

"Well, you did kick his ass last summer," Bella said to her. "And I'm sorry too."

"Finally," I sighed, my gaze going back to Janice. "What happened after?"

"Martin and I played together every day, and I was really starting to like him. Then, suddenly, he laid his hand upon mine and said in his best English that he liked me. I didn't know what to say, so…"

"So… _what_?" Bella said. "Jan, you're making me real curious here."

"So I kissed him."

Lexie and I looked at each other and started to laugh. When I saw that Janice looked puzzled I gathered my breath and asked, "Oh my- you were being serious?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

Janice folded her arms and her face was flushed.

"It doesn't very much sound like the Janice we know," Lexie said. "It doesn't sound like you to do something as bold as that."

"You are a little shy when it comes to boys," Cedric said.

"How can you say that?" said Janice indignantly. "He was the first guy I liked. Ever."

"What happened after you kissed him?" I said. "Did he kiss you back?"

"He did kiss me back," said Janice, smiling again. "He held me very close, and he was very sweet. In the end I had him teach me to say 'Ich liebe dich' and he repeated it too me."

"Janice, that is so sweet!" I cooed.

"Janice, just to be sure, okay? _You_ kissed _him_?" Bella repeated. "I can't even-"

"She's grown older too, Bells, like all of us," I said. "As we grow older, we grow bolder with things like that. You've grown, I have, Lexie has, Janice has, Mione had, Ron and Harry have, too…"

"Ugh, I just can't imagine Harry or Ron telling me something like Janice just did," Lexie said. "I mean, Harry practically still blushes whenever I call him darling. I mean, Merlin, shouldn't he be used to that by now?"

"Why would you call him-?" Cedric started, but then he just said, "I probably won't get an answer that makes sense."

Lexie laughed.

"And funny too are you?" she smirked. "Aren't you damn perfect, handsome? Claire, you have my blessing."

Cedric blushed only slightly, though knowing he shouldn't take anything but the last sentence seriously, so he drew closer and kissed me on the forehead. I smiled. This would be a much better year than the last.

* * *

**1. Thoughts on ClairexCedric? Now it's canon and official and all I was just curious.  
2. Thoughts on JanicexMartin? It's not going to be mentioned a lot of times after this, just to show Janice had grown older as well.  
3. Favorite OC?**


	2. the Burrow and its Weasels

**Sorry it took me so long, but I had holidays in between and I was off to Germany. So, I hope you'll forgive me and love this chapter. Thanks for the reviews :)  
**

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_**Ch. 2 the Burrow and its Weasels**_

POV LEXIE JONES:

"And why have your parents suddenly agreed on taking us?"

"Don't ask me, I'm as clueless as you," Bella replied.

"I think they want to be kind," Janice said.

"Well, I know it's not that, at least," answered Bella grumpily. "Every time they're being nice I'm wondering what scheme I'm involved in now. It's worse than when I'm with Lexie."

"I don't even scheme that much," I said indignantly. "I've only got the perfect personality for it, haven't I?"

"You look the part, with your silver-green tie, too," smirked Bella.

"Oh, shut up Harriett."

I looked smug when Bella gritted her teeth.

"I don't really think it's a kindness, but they've just grudgingly agreed to you because otherwise you're even more likely to get into trouble," Claire told her. "They must know by know only reversed psychology works with you."

"Joking, too?" Bella said, and I finished for her, "Cedric must be doing a real good job on you."

Claire pursed her lips.

"It's not like I was completely humourless before, was it?"

"They just mean that Cedric really made you feel better," Janice said. "They're jealous."

She added the last bit with a mischievous smile.

"Wow," said Bella, "wow, now ease up there a little. We- neither Lexie or me- are jealous of-"

"-of your big Aryan man, okay?" I filled her up. "Oh no, you can have your _stattlich Deutschen Freund_."

Bella, Claire and Janice laughed.

"It sounded funny, with that sharp 'ch'," Bella said. "Didn't know you knew German?"

"I don't," I said, "just a few words that's all. Really simple stuff."

"Why? Why on Earth would you even bother?"

"I don't know," I said. 'I guess I like being able to speak more languages."

"But you already speak French and English," she nagged on. "Why also German?"

Claire sighed, "Don't expect her to understand."

"Don't worry, I don't," I smiled back at her. "Why's Mione this late? She never is."

That very second, oddly enough, Hermione entered the room and had just enough time to say 'hi' before Bella crushed her into a hug. When she let go, Hermione was grinning, tanned, just a bit dishevelled. After that Claire and Janice hugged her as well, though a bit more careful, and I gave her a last, tight hug.

"What have you done with your hair?" I said, noticing the change immediately.

I grabbed a strand and twirled it between my fingers. It was still very big, thick and wavy, but it wasn't nearly as frizzy and bushy as it had been before the holidays.

"Wow, it does look pretty," Claire said, realizing it, too.

"I swam a lot in France, that might have helped. But I really haven't got a clue. It just settled down a bit, I don't know," Hermione answered, smiling happily. "It is _a lot_ better, isn't it? And now we're speaking about hair- Bella, oh my-"

"My mom said it make me look pale," Bella said, "but I think it makes me look tougher."

"You really remind me of Harry now."

Bella groaned, "God, no-"

"Yeah," I said giggling, "like if Harry would go transsexual and took off his glasses-"

"-and took a piercing-"

"-yes, and took a piercing-"

"You two are hopeless!" said Bella, who couldn't help but laugh.

"Oh, I love your necklace!" Hermione cooed at Claire. "Did Cedric give it to you?"

"Yes he did," Claire said cheerfully. "He's so sweet, really- he gives me gifts and he's so good to me."

"I like yours too," Hermione said, looking at me.

I looked puzzled for a second, but then I realized she couldn't have been talking about the necklace I'd gotten from Draco, because I wasn't wearing it any longer. It was a simple silver one with a small metal charm on it, in the shape of a feather. My sister had given it to me. I'd had it for a long time, but I'd never worn it because I had Draco's necklace. I guess it fell in my cleavage nicely. Bella's brother had certainly noticed.

"Thanks," I said, because I realized I had been silent for quite some time.

"I'd expected a snake tooth or something," Bella jested. "She spent the entire summer with that Herman beast."

"_Hermes_," I corrected her. "And usually people call snake teeth fangs."

"So you're not denying you've been doing some devil rituals with that thing in your room? Seriously, it creeps me out."

"_Snakes_ creep you out," I snarled. "Though the redeeming thing is it's really the only thing you're scared of."

* * *

POV JANICE DIGGORY:

"Did you just compliment me or insult me?" Bella asked, half-laughing half-serious.

"That's up to you to figure out," Lexie said mischievously.

"But seriously, are you still doing the Dark Magic thing?" I inquired anxiously.

I really thought it wasn't right for her to do it. Sure, she wouldn't abuse it now, but who was to say she would not end up like You-Know-Who? I would trust her with my life, but no one thought You-Know-Who was evil when he was younger. He probably wasn't at the beginning, though, I don't believe people are born evil, you see. They become evil for a reason. I was immediately ashamed of myself for comparing Lexie to You-Know-Who.

"You make it sound like I'm doing drugs," Lexie said, looking to Claire and Hermione for support.

"Well, you know I'm principally and morally against it," Hermione said, crossing her arms.

Claire wasn't so sure.

"You know, though it was terrifying when you flung Selwyn against that wall, you did sort of defend yourself. And your DADA marks improved tremendously…"

"Claire, how can you possibly relate this to school work?" I sighed. "This is _illegal_."

"I'm not for Dark Magic but it's not the most or the only illegal thing one of us has done," Bella said. "And, let's face it, those illegal spells did save our asses a couple o' times last year."

"Not to mention it might be very useful in the future," said Lexie darkly.

Even I could sense the threatening tone in her voice.

"What's wrong?" I asked, my voice raising in pitch.

She bit her lip.

"Come on, spit it out, then," said Bella.

"Promise me you won't tell Harry," Lexie said. "It'll keep him awake at night."

Hermione frowned.

"It's got nothing to do with V- Vol- You-Know-Who, has it?"

She couldn't bring herself to say the name.

"Of course it has," said Claire. "It always has something to do with him."

Lexie left a dangerous silence that said enough for itself.

"What is it, have you _deduced_ that Voldemort's coming back?" said Bella in a mocking tone.

Another silence.

"_No_!" I gasped. "He can't be! How? Why? When?"

"Remember when you told us about Trelawney's prophecy?" Lexie started.

"Trelawney's a right old fraud, I thought we agreed on that," Bella huffed.

"_Hear me out_," Lexie hissed. "Harry told Dumbledore, of course. Dumbledore reacted so very carelessly, and that struck me. It made me think."

"Dumbledore probably just didn't take it that seriously," Hermione said.

"That's what you'd think, right? I don't think that's the case, though," Lexie said. "I think he was so calm about it because he wasn't surprised. He'd always known it would happen some day. The question was never _if_ Voldemort would come back, but _when_ he would."

Those words sent a shiver down my spine and made my stomach clench. That couldn't be true. I wouldn't allow it to be true. Voldemort couldn't come back! The thought of another war was too much to progress. More loss, more death…

"Why would he hide something like that for us?" Bella said. "Wouldn't he want us to be prepared?"

"Same reason I hid it from you," answered Lexie simply. "Same reason we're hiding this from Harry. And Ron, Ron's too much of a chatterbox for this sort of secret."

"The thought alone would give us sleepless nights," Claire said.

"Well, mission accomplished," I muttered. "He can't be coming back. I can't fight in a war-"

"I can," said Bella fiercely. "And I will. If it comes to war, I'll fight till the last drop of blood."

"What; your blood or the blood of your loved ones'?" Lexie muttered.

"You think this is something heroic, don't you?" Claire said. "If I've learnt anything of my history lessons it's that war is not heroic."

"Especially wizarding wars, I'd think," Lexie agreed. "It doesn't come down to courage, or strength, or perseverance, whatever you wish to call it. it's just being lucky enough not to get hit by the curses fired at you. If you're lucky you'll live through it."

"You'd be surprised to see what life's worth if the rest is taken from you," said Bella, suddenly bitter. "If I've got the chance to save my loved ones and die for them if I must, I'd do it willingly."

"All this talk of war makes me sick," I said, hugging my knees. "It's ruined the mood."

* * *

POV BELLA MCLAGGEN:

A few seconds later my mom called and we went down, eerily silent. I barely noticed it when my father asked my arm for us to Disapparate. The sickening feeling of it made me more conscious of where I was going, and I put on a smile. I was awful at faking facial expressions.

But then I remembered I'd be going to the Burrow, Ron and the twins would be there, Harry would have arrived as well, and we'd all be going to the World Cup.

The Burrow was just as I imagined it would be. Small, cosy, and very welcoming. The house didn't look like it could fit so much people, but I knew I would find out much nicer than my own house.

It was always so big and cold and empty in there, no matter how colourful the walls were or how many fires were lit. I may have had a nicer house, but a house didn't mean you had a home.

My father already left the second he saw Mrs. Weasley coming out of the door, and I supposed that was that. Honestly, I didn't even care anymore.

Before I could say anything, I heard Mrs. Weasley squeal and pull me into a hug. She was a short, plump woman with a very kind face and had red hair like all the Weasleys.

Even though we only had met briefly two years ago, she kept sending me and the others jumpers for Christmas, which I thought was really sweet of her. Since second year, even Lexie had received a jumper, though I knew she only wore it when she was with us.

"I can't believe it's you, Bella!" she said kindly. "The hair really makes you look like a different person!"

Hermione was more of a familiar face to her so she received the second embrace. Janice was also a bit more familiar because Mrs. Weasley knew the Diggory's via her husband, but she had to think before she addressed Claire or Lexie.

"Oh, I see," she said finally. "Claire, you're the one with the pretty curls, right? George's going on about you all the time."

Claire also received a strangling bear hug and at last Mrs. Weasley approached Lexie.

"And Lexie with the long blonde hair," she said, smiling fondly. "You're at least twice as pretty as Ron said you were."

"Why, thank you, Mrs. Weasley," said Lexie amusedly, exchanging looks with me.

"Come in, come in," said Mrs. Weasley, ushering us inside.

The house looked even more cosy from the inside as it did from the outside. I absolutely loved it. Mrs. Weasley examined her watch.

"Arthur and the boys should be here in about-"

There was a loud plop and Mr. Weasley, Fred, George, Ron and Harry appeared in the kitchen.

"Did he eat it?" said Fred excitedly, holding out a hand to pull Harry to his feet.

"Yeah," said Harry, straightening up. "What was it?"

"Ton-Tongue Toffee," said Fred brightly. "George and I invented them, and we've been looking for someone to test them on all summer…"

"Did you feed Dudley some of your devil candy or something?" I laughed, and the twins grinned at me, sandwitching me into a hug.

"If it's not our little prodigy-"

"-well, is it? She barely looks like herself anymore…"

"Don't change the subject! That wasn't funny Fred!" Mr. Weasley shouted. "What on earth did you give that Muggle boy?"

"I didn't give him anything," said Fred, with an evil grin. "I just dropped it… It was his fault he went and ate it, I never told him to."

"You dropped it on purpose!" roared Mr. Weasley. "You knew he'd eat it, you knew he was on a diet -"

"How big did his tongue get?" George asked eagerly.

"It was four feet long before his parents would let me shrink it!"

Harry, Ron, the twins and I roared with laughter again.

"It isn't funny!" Mr. Weasley shouted. "That sort of behavior seriously undermines wizard-Muggle relations! I spend half my life campaigning against the mistreatment of Muggles, and my own sons…"

"We didn't give it to him because he's a Muggle!" said Fred indignantly.

"No, we gave it to him because he's a great bullying git," said George. "Isn't he, Harry?"

"Yeah, he is, Mr. Weasley," said Harry earnestly.

"And of course our _celebrity_ had to arrive in a shocking manner," mocked Lexie.

Harry honestly couldn't care less and pulled her into a hug anyway, and I saw, before he could let go, she sneakily planted a kiss on his cheek, leaving him brick red. It was a bit mean of her to bully him like that, but also tremendously funny.

"And hello Miss Jones," said Fred, spreading his arms for her.

Lexie grinned but passed him by and hugged Ron, as George hugged Claire carefully.

"You okay?" he whispered softly, so only she would hear it.

That's odd. I never knew they were hanging out.

Janice was choking Harry with a tight embrace and now it was my turn to hug Ron. When everyone had properly greeted one another, two other redheads entered the room, but I had never seen either of them. Though I knew immediately who they had to be Bill and Charlie Weasley, Ron's older brother. They'd already left Hogwarts before I started.

"How're you doing?" said the nearer of the two, grinning at me and holding out a large hand, which I shook, feeling calluses and blisters under his fingers, after the rest shook his hand.

This had to be Charlie, who worked with dragons in Romania. Charlie was built like the twins, shorter and stockier than Percy and Ron, who were both long and lanky. He had a broad, good-natured face, which was weather-beaten and so freckly that he looked almost tanned; his arms were muscular, and one of them had a large, shiny burn on it.

Bill got to his feet, smiling, and also shook my hand. Bill came as something of a surprise. I knew that he worked for the wizarding bank, Gringotts, and that Bill had been Head Boy at Hogwarts; I had always imagined Bill to be an older version of Percy: fussy about rule-breaking and fond of bossing everyone around. However, Bill was - there was no other word for it - _cool_.

He was tall, with long hair that he had tied back in a ponytail. He was wearing an earring with what looked like a fang dangling from it. Bill's clothes would not have looked out of place at a rock concert, except that I recognized his boots to be made, not of leather, but of dragon hide. I don't know about Hermione, Janice or Claire, but he certainly got Lexie's and mine attention.

"What have the twins done this time?" said Mrs. Weasley. "If it's got anything to do with Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes -"

"Why don't you show us where we're sleeping, Ron?" said Hermione, clearly sensing a rant.

"You know where you're sleeping," said Ron, "Harry in my room, he slept there last, and you -"

"We can all go," said Hermione pointedly.

"Oh," said Ron, cottoning on. "Right."

"Yeah, we'll come too," said George.

"You stay where you are!" snarled Mrs. Weasley.

We edged out of the kitchen, and we set off along the narrow hallway and up the rickety staircase that zigzagged through the house to the upper stories.

"What are Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes?" Harry asked as we climbed.

Ron and I both laughed, although Hermione didn't.

"Mum found this stack of order forms when she was cleaning Fred and George's room," said Ron quietly. "Great long price lists for stuff they've invented. Joke stuff, you know. Fake wands and trick sweets, loads of stuff. It was brilliant, I never knew they'd been inventing all that…"

"I did," I said, "they'd confided in me one of the last Hogsmeade visits."

"Never knew you were so close," Janice remarked.

"Well, we're not super close, but I admire their work," I said.

"You make it sound so professional," Claire laughed. "_The art of pranking_."

"It's an art," I replied, too serious for it to be a joke.

"We've been hearing explosions out of their room for ages, but we never thought they were actually making things," Ron continued. "We thought they just liked the noise."

"I think it's brilliant," Lexie said. "There's loads of adrenaline junkies like Bella out there who're just dying to buy that stuff, I guess."

"Only, most of the stuff - well, all of it, really - was a bit dangerous," said Ron, "and, you know, they were planning to sell it at Hogwarts to make some money, and Mum went mad at them. Told them they weren't allowed to make any more of it, and burned all the order forms… She's furious at them anyway. They didn't get as many O.W.L.s as she expected."

"Story of my life," I said softly. "It will be, anyway."

"And then there was this big row," Ron said, "because Mum wants them to go into the Ministry of Magic like Dad, and they told her all they want to do is open a joke shop."

Just then a door on the second landing opened, and a face poked out wearing horn-rimmed glasses and a very annoyed expression.

"Hi, Percy," said Harry.

"Oh hello, Harry," said Percy. "I was wondering who was making all the noise. I'm trying to work in here, you know I've got a report to finish for the office – and it's rather difficult to concentrate when people keep thundering up and down the stairs."

"We're not thundering, "said Ron irritably. "We're walking. Sorry if we've disturbed the top-secret workings of the Ministry of Magic."

"What are you working on?" asked Claire curiously.

We all knew she aspired to get a real high job at the Ministry later.

"A report for the Department of International Magical Cooperation," said Percy smugly. "We're trying to standardize cauldron thickness. Some of these foreign imports are just a shade too thin - leakages have been increasing at a rate of almost three percent a year -"

"That'll change the world, that report will," said Ron. "Front page of the Daily Prophet, I expect, cauldron leaks."

Percy went slightly pink.

"You might sneer, Ron," he said heatedly, "but unless some sort of international law is imposed we might well find the market flooded with flimsy, shallow bottomed products that seriously endanger -"

"Yeah, yeah, all right," Ron said, dismissing it with a wave of his hand.

He continued up the stairs until we reached his room. It was a bit crammed; especially with all the seven of us in there. The posters of Ron's favorite Quidditch team, the Chudley Cannons, were whirling and waving on the walls and sloping ceiling, and the fish tank on the windowsill contained one extremely large frog.

Ron's old rat, Scabbers, was here no more, but instead there was the tiny gray owl that had delivered Ron's letter to Harry in Privet Drive. It was hopping up and down in a small cage and twittering madly.

"Shut up, Pig," said Ron, edging his way between two of the four beds that had been squeezed into the room. "Fred and George are in here with us, because Bill and Charlie are in their room," he told us. "You girls can sleep in Ginny's room- Percy gets to keep his room all to himself because he's got to work."

"Awh- just when I was looking forward to cosying up to you at night…" Lexie teased. "Did I hear you called me pretty?"

Ron blushed.

"Er - why are you calling that owl Pig?" Harry asked Ron, not giving Lexie what she wanted.

"Because he's being stupid," said Janice, "Its proper name is Pigwidgeon, Ginny told me."

"Yeah, and that's not a stupid name at all," said Ron sarcastically. "Ginny named him," he explained to Harry. "She reckons it's sweet. And I tried to change it, but it was too late, he won't answer to anything else. So now he's Pig. I've got to keep him up here because he annoys Errol and Hermes. He annoys me too, come to that."

Pigwidgeon zoomed happily around his cage, hooting shrilly. I knew Ron too well to take him seriously. He had moaned continually about his old rat, Scabbers, but had been most upset when Hermione's cat, Crookshanks, appeared to have eaten him.

"Where's Crookshanks?" Harry asked Hermione now.

"I let him out when we arrived. Out in the garden, I expect," she said. "He likes chasing gnomes. He's never seen any before."

"Percy's enjoying work, then?" said Harry, sitting down on one of the beds and watching the Chudley Cannons zooming in and out of the posters on the ceiling.

"Enjoying it?" said Ron darkly. "I don't reckon he'd come home if Dad didn't make him. He's obsessed. Just don't get him onto the subject of his boss. According to Mr. Crouch… as I was saying to Mr. Crouch… Mr. Crouch is of the opinion… Mr. Crouch was telling me… They'll be announcing their engagement any day now."

I laughed.

"I honestly can't see how people can be so obsessed with something."

"Unless it's Quidditch-"

"Or pulling pranks-"

"Or-"

"I get it, I get it!" I laughed. "But that's _fun_, though."

"Have you had a good summer, Harry?" said Hermione. "Did you get our food parcels and everything?"

"Yeah, thanks a lot," said Harry. "They saved my life, those cakes."

"Shall we go down and help your mum with dinner?"

"Yeah, all right," said Ron.

All seven of us left Ron's room and went back downstairs to find Mrs. Weasley alone in the kitchen, looking extremely bad-tempered.

"We're eating out in the garden," she said when we came in. "There's just not room for fifteen people in here. Could you take the plates outside, girls? Bill and Charlie are setting up the tables. Knives and forks, please, you two," she said to Ron and Harry, pointing her wand a little more vigorously than she had intended at a pile of potatoes in the sink, which shot out of their skins so fast that they ricocheted off the walls and ceiling.

"Oh for heaven's sake," she snapped, now directing her wand at a dustpan, which hopped off the sideboard and started skating across the floor, scooping up the potatoes. "Those two!" she burst out savagely, now pulling pots and pans out of a cupboard, and Harry knew she meant Fred and George. "I don't know what's going to happen to them, I really don't. No ambition, unless you count making as much trouble as they possibly can…"

Mrs. Weasley slammed a large copper saucepan down on the kitchen table and began to wave her wand around inside it. A creamy sauce poured from the wand tip as she stirred.

"It's not as though they haven't got brains," she continued irritably, taking the saucepan over to the stove and lighting it with a further poke of her wand, "but they're wasting them, and unless they pull themselves together soon, they'll be in real trouble. I've had more owls from Hogwarts about them than the rest put together. If they carry on the way they're going, they'll end up in front of the Improper Use of Magic Office."

We left Mrs. Weasley and headed out the back door into the yard. I had only gone a few paces when Hermione's bandy-legged ginger cat, Crookshanks, came pelting out of the garden, bottle-brush tail held high in the air, chasing what looked like a muddy potato on legs.

I recognized it instantly as a gnome. Barely ten inches high, its horny little feet pattered very fast as it sprinted across the yard and dived headlong into one of the Wellington boots that lay scattered around the door. I could hear the gnome giggling madly as Crookshanks inserted a paw into the boot, trying to reach it.

* * *

POV CLAIRE GIBBS:

By seven o'clock, the two tables were groaning under dishes and dishes of Mrs. Weasley's excellent cooking, and the nine Weasleys, Harry, Hermione, Janice, Bella Lexie and I were settling ourselves down to eat beneath a clear, deep-blue sky.

To somebody who had been living on almost only special high-nutrition food (high-carb dishes that looked like puke), this was paradise, and at first, I listened rather than talked as I helped myself to chicken and ham pie, boiled potatoes, and salad.

The high-nutrition food was necessary because the doctor said I'd lost too much weight last year. At first I was scared of only looking at the amount of calories on my new meals, but in the end they made me feel better. My weight was normal for my length again, now, and with Cedric by my side, telling me I was beautiful every day we spent together, I actually wanted to believe it.

At the far end of the table, Percy was telling his father all about his report on cauldron bottoms.

"I've told Mr. Crouch that I'll have it ready by Tuesday," Percy was saying pompously. "That's a bit sooner than he expected it, but I like to keep on top of things. I think he'll be grateful I've done it in good time, I mean, its extremely busy in our department just now, what with all the arrangements for the World Cup. We're just not getting the support we need from the Department of Magical Games and Sports. Ludo Bagman-"

"I like Ludo," said Mr. Weasley mildly. "He was the one who got us such good tickets for the Cup. I did him a bit of a favour: His brother, Otto, got into a spot of trouble - a lawnmower with unnatural powers - I smoothed the whole thing over."

"Oh Bagman's likable enough, of course," said Percy dismissively, "but how he ever got to be Head of Department… when I compare him to Mr. Crouch! I can't see Mr. Crouch losing a member of our department and not trying to find out what's happened to them. You realize Bertha Jorkins has been missing for over a month now? Went on holiday to Albania and never came back?"

My fingers cleched around my fork and my eyes shot toward Lexie, who kept her eyes dead but nodded to make sure she understood. It started with disappearances before... I shuddered involuntarily.

"Yes, I was asking Ludo about that," said Mr. Weasley, frowning. "He says Bertha's gotten lost plenty of times before now - though must say, if it was someone in my department, I'd be worried…"

"Oh Bertha's hopeless, all right," said Percy. "I hear she's been shunted from department to department for years, much more trouble than she's worth… but all the same, Bagman ought to be trying to find her. Mr. Crouch has been taking a personal interest, she worked in our department at one time, you know, and I think Mr. Crouch was quite fond of her - but Bagman just keeps laughing and saying she probably misread the map and ended up in Australia instead of Albania. However" - Percy heaved an impressive sigh and took a deep swig of elderflower wine - "we've got quite enough on our plates at the Department of International Magical Cooperation without trying to find members of other departments too. As you know, we've got another big event to organize right after the World Cup."

Percy cleared his throat significantly and looked down toward the end of the table where Harry, Ron, and Hermione were sitting.

"You know the one I'm talking about, Father." He raised his voice slightly. "The top-secret one."

Ron rolled his eyes and muttered, "He's been trying to get us to ask what that event is ever since he started work. Probably an exhibition of thick-bottomed cauldrons."

In the middle of the table, Mrs. Weasley was arguing with Bill about his earring, which seemed to be a recent acquisition.

"… with a horrible great fang on it. Really, Bill, what do they say at the bank?"

"Mum, no one at the bank gives a damn how I dress as long as I bring home plenty of treasure," said Bill patiently.

"And your hair's getting silly, dear," said Mrs. Weasley, fingering her wand lovingly." I wish you'd let me give it a trim…"

"I like it," said Ginny, who was sitting beside Bill. "You're so old-fashioned, Mum. Anyway, it's nowhere near as long as Professor Dumbledore's…"

Next to Mrs. Weasley, Fred, George, and Charlie were all talking spiritedly about the World Cup.

"It's got to be Ireland," said Charlie thickly, through a mouthful of potato. "They flattened Peru in the semifinals."

"Bulgaria has got Viktor Krum, though," said Fred.

"Krum's one decent player, Ireland has got seven," said Charlie shortly. "I wish England had got through. That was embarrassing, that was."

"Went down to Transylvania, three hundred and ninety to ten, didn't they?" I said gloomily.

"And since when did you become so fascinated with Quidditch, Claire?" George grinned. "I don't think there's any book you could have read that in."

"Cedric told me," I said dryly.

"Ah, the _boyfriend_," his twin brother said.

I arched my eyebrows.

"Well, he is your boyfriend, isn't he? Don't tell me George's been making voodoo dolls of him for nothing?"

"_Of course_ he is my boyfriend- wait, what?"

"Fred's just joking," George said quickly, dismissing it with a smile.

"When isn't he?" I said softly, smiling back at him.

"Just so you know, if he ever plans on hurting you we will have a major revenge prank in store for him," he said, perfectly wicked.

"He won't hurt me," I insisted, honestly not wanting to think about what kind of prank they would perform.

Mr. Weasley conjured up candles to light the darkening garden before they had their homemade strawberry ice cream, and by the time they had finished, moths were fluttering low over the table, and the warm air was perfumed with the smells of grass and honeysuckle. I was feeling extremely well fed and at peace with the world as I watched several gnomes sprinting through the rosebushes, laughing madly and closely pursued by Crookshanks.

"Look at the time," Mrs. Weasley said suddenly, checking her wristwatch. "You really should be in bed, the whole lot of you you'll be up at the crack of dawn to get to the Cup. Harry, if you leave your school list out, I'll get your things for you tomorrow in Diagon Alley. I'm getting everyone else's. There might not be time after the World Cup, the match went on for five days last time."

"Wow - hope it does this time!" said Harry enthusiastically.

"Well, I certainly don't," said Percy sanctimoniously. "I shudder to think what the state of my in-tray would be if I was away from work for five days."

"Yeah, someone might slip dragon dung in it again, eh, Perce?" said Fred.

"That was a sample of fertilizer from Norway!" said Percy, going very red in the face. "It was nothing personal!"

"It was," Fred whispered to me as we got up from the table. "We sent it."

Then my attention went to something up in the darkened sky.

"Lexie," I said doubtingly. "Isn't that Rigel?"

She squeezed her eyes together to see it clearly, before they widened.

"It is! I thought Mum and Dad would just bring him along before we went to Hogwarts-"

"Maybe something's wrong," said Janice worriedly. "What if Michael's been messing around with your sister of something?"

"I'll kill him," said Bella and Lexie in unison.

Rigel came swooping down and landed gracefully on the table, a light purple letter in his beak. Expensive paper; it looked rather fancy. The dark purple letters on it spelled Lexie's name, and she paled immediately, shoving away the letter.

"What is it?" said Janice, grabbing hold of Lexie's arm.

"Whose handwriting…" Harry started, but he stumbled upon his own words, grasping the letter.

"A love note?" Fred said teasingly.

"It better not be," said Ron, following Harry's thoughts and knowing exactly who sent it.

"Harry Potter, _give_ _the letter back_," said Lexie, her voice flaring with anger. "Give it back or suffer a curse."

Bella and Ron had to do their utmost to keep Lexie at the spot and to stop her from drawing her wand, but in the end they managed to confiscate it so Harry could rip open the envelope. He read it out loud.

"Dear Lexie, I sent an owl to your house but they told me you'd be spending summer with those Weasels in their Burrow. If any consolation, that means I will still get to see you at the Quidditch World Cup. You would also be pleased to know my nose is healing nicely. I don't blame you for what you did, really. It was stupid of me to say that- I'd never have if I knew you'd be there to hear it. Anyway, I can't wait to see you again in a short while. I've missed you. Love, Draco."

There was an uneasy silence.

"Harry, best give her back the letter," I said in a soft voice.

Lexie was as still as a statue and her face was a complete mask, though I couldn't help but notice how firmly she grasped the letter and how desperate she was to get out, knowing her she'd probably ceremoniously burn it.

After she'd disappeared through the door, Ron said indignantly, "Who's Malfoy calling Weasels, eh? He looks more like a Weasel than us."

"I don't know about you, but that is not the thing that upset me," Bella said. "God, I actually feel sorry for her. If he thinks everything's just going to be okay after what happened…"

"The fashion in which he spoke," I agreed. "Insufferable arrogance."

"You don't think she's actually upset now, is she?" said Harry uncomfortably. "As in, crying."

The last word was a whisper.

"That would be the first time I'd seen her cry," Janice said. "I've known her since she was four, spent most of my time with her and I've never seen her cry. Malfoy's insolence was tough for her, but not tough enough for her to cry over it."

"I don't even think she would cry if one of us died," Bella nodded. "Even if it only were to remain strong for us."

"Good," mumbled Harry softly, though he stayed behind with me.

In the end we were the last two in the garden, gazing up at the stars until he spoke.

"It's frankly ridiculous."

"What is?"

"I know she would've done exactly the same if the roles were reversed," Harry whispered. "Lexie's done nothing but tease me in the past and this was the first time I got her back a little. Why do I feel so guilty?"

I smiled.

"I don't think she blames you, Harry. Although I still think you shouldn't have read it, but just let her read it. Then again, she probably would've burned that thing at the spot if you hadn't taken it, and I felt like she needed to know what was in there. The shock wouldn't have been as big as when she wouldn't have read it and Malfoy would have- I don't now- kissed her tomorrow."

"He won't," said Harry fiercely. "I actually hate him for lying to her. I never thought I could hate Malfoy more than I already did. Good thing is, so does Lexie."

"That's the point, Harry," I said softly, "she doesn't hate him. That's what makes it worse."

* * *

**1. Did you like the chapter? The little moment with the girls?  
2. Of course Lexie had to pick up on the inevitably of the upcoming war. Bella's response, though... like/love/hate?  
3. I think it's so adorable George still sort of cares for Claire, remember when she fainted in his arms last year?  
4. Did anyone else recognize the name of Lexie's owl from somewhere? *smirks mischievously* ten points for the reviewer who does...  
5. Lexie's suddenly really upset now, thoughts? I think this situation shows a more sensitive side of her, because she's really hurt and always likes to pretend she never gets hurt. **


	3. the Bet

**Wow, this is a super long chapter with a lot not from the book... enjoy and please leave reviews, they make me happy (and write faster)  
**

* * *

_**Ch. 3 the Bet**_

POV LEXIE JONES:

I felt as though I had barely lain down to sleep in Ginny's room when I was being shaken awake by Mrs. Weasley. "Time to go, Lexie , dear," she whispered, moving away to wake Janice .

I sat up. It was still dark outside.

Janice muttered indistinctly as Mrs. Weasley woke her. At the foot of my mattress I saw two large, dishevelled shapes emerging from tangles of blankets.

"'S' time already?" said Bella groggily.

We dressed in silence, too sleepy to talk (except for Janice, who was a morning person), then, yawning and stretching, the six of us headed downstairs into the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley was stirring the contents of a large pot on the stove, while Mr. Weasley was sitting at the table, checking a sheaf of large parchment tickets.

He looked up as we entered and spread his arms so that they could see his clothes more clearly. He was wearing what appeared to be a golfing sweater and a very old pair of jeans, slightly too big for him and held up with a thick leather belt.

"What d'you think?" he asked anxiously. "We're supposed to go incognito - do I look like a Muggle, guys?"

"Yeah," said Janice, smiling, "very much."

"Where're Bill and Charlie and Per-Per-Percy?" said Ginny, failing to stifle a huge yawn.

"Well, they're Apparating, aren't they?" said Mrs. Weasley, heaving the large pot over to the table and starting to ladle porridge into bowls. "So they can have a bit of a lie-in."

I knew that Apparating meant disappearing from one place and reappearing almost instantly in another, but I had never known any Hogwarts student to do it, and understood that it was very difficult.

"So they're still in bed?" said Bella grumpily, pulling his bowl of porridge toward him. "Why can't we Apparate too?"

"Because you're not of age and you haven't passed your test," said Mrs. Weasley. "And where have those other boys got to?"

She bustled out of the kitchen and we heard her climbing the stairs.

"You have to pass a test to Apparate?" I asked.

"Oh yes," said Mr. Weasley, tucking the tickets safely into the back pocket of his jeans. "The Department of Magical Transportation had to fine a couple of people the other day for Apparating without a license. It's not easy, Apparition, and when it's not done property it can lead to nasty complications. This pair I'm talking about went and splinched themselves."

Everyone around the table except me and Bella winced.

"Er - splinched?" said Claire, not sounding like she really wanted an answer.

"They left half of themselves behind," said Mr. Weasley, now spooning large amounts of treacle onto his porridge. "So, of course, they were stuck. Couldn't move either way. Had to wait for the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad to sort them out. Meant a fair old bit of paperwork, I can tell you, what with the Muggles who spotted the body parts they'd left behind…"

I had a sudden vision of a pair of legs and an eyeball lying abandoned on the pavement.

"Were they okay?" Claire asked, startled.

"Oh yes," said Mr. Weasley matter-of-factly. "But they got a heavy fine, and I don't think they'll be trying it again in a hurry. You don't mess around with Apparition. There are plenty of adult wizards who don't bother with it. Prefer brooms - slower, but safer."

"But Bill and Charlie and Percy can all do it?"

"Charlie had to take the test twice," said Ginny, grinning. "He failed the first time. Apparated five miles south of where he meant to, right on top of some poor old dear doing her shopping, remember?"

"Yes, well, he passed the second time," said Mrs. Weasley, marching back into the kitchen amid hearty sniggers.

"Percy only passed two weeks ago," said the smallest Weasley. "He's been Apparating downstairs every morning since, just to prove he can."

There were footsteps down the passageway and Harry and Ron came into the kitchen, both looking pale and drowsy, followed by the twins.

"Why do we have to be up so early?" Ron said, rubbing his eyes and sitting down at the table.

"We've got a bit of a walk," said Mr. Weasley.

"Walk?" said Harry. "What, are we walking to the World Cup?"

Honestly, I had expected we were going to- I don't know- but not walk.

"No, no, that's miles away," said Mr. Weasley, smiling. "We only need to walk a short way. It's just that it's very difficult for a large number of wizards to congregate without attracting Muggle attention. We have to be very careful about how we travel at the best of times, and on a huge occasion like the Quidditch World Cup…"

"George!" said Mrs. Weasley sharply, and we all jumped.

"What?" said George, in an innocent tone that deceived nobody.

"What is that in your pocket?"

"Nothing!"

"Don't you lie to me!"

Mrs. Weasley pointed her wand at George's pocket and said, "Accio!"

Several small, brightly colored objects zoomed out of George's pocket; he made a grab for them but missed, and they sped right into Mrs. Weasley's outstretched hand.

"We told you to destroy them!" said Mrs. Weasley furiously, holding up what were unmistakably more Ton-Tongue Toffees. "We told you to get rid of the lot! Empty your pockets, go on, both of you!"

It was an unpleasant scene; the twins had evidently been trying to smuggle as many toffees out of the house as possible, and it was only by using her Summoning Charm that Mrs. Weasley managed to find them all.

"Accio! Accio! Accio!" she shouted, and toffees zoomed from all sorts of unlikely places, including the lining of George's jacket and the turn-ups of Fred's jeans.

The sight of it made me want to grin, I tried not to, but I saw next to me Bella did not even try to hide her amusement.

"We spent six months developing those!" Fred shouted at his mother as she threw the toffees away.

"Oh, a fine way to spend six months!" she shrieked. "No wonder you didn't get more O.W.L.s!"

All in all, the atmosphere was not very friendly as we took our departure. Mrs. Weasley was still glowering as she kissed Mr. Weasley on the cheek, though not nearly as much as the twins, who had each hoisted their rucksacks onto their backs and walked out without a word to her.

"Well, have a lovely time," said Mrs. Weasley, "and behave yourselves," she called after the twins' retreating backs, but they did not look back or answer. "I'll send Bill, Charlie, and Percy along around midday," Mrs. Weasley said to Mr. Weasley, as he, Harry, Ron, Ginny, Janice, Hermione, Bella, Claire and I set off across the dark yard after Fred and George.

It was chilly and the moon was still out. Only a dull, greenish tinge along the horizon to the right showed that daybreak was drawing closer. I did notice that the boys were acting rather odd to me, and that the girls were doing an excellent but not very subtle job not to mention last night.

"Just so you know," said Ron softly, so his father wouldn't hear, "if Malfoy ever plays a trick like that again, I'll-"

"Thank you very, very much, Ron," I said, the sarcasm dripping off my voice.

He nodded, and went to walk next to Bella, whispering fervently and tossing odd looks at me every few seconds. Harry at least had enough grace to mumble a sorry, and I took a deep breath before saying, "That's all right, Harry. All in all, you deserved to get me back with something for a change."

His green eyes showed an emotion I hated to see; pity.

"Look, Lexie," he said. "I know you want to act like nothing gets to you, that's fine, but I know he really hurt you, and-"

I cut him off.

"I accepted your apology so that means you can take your leave and shut up about it, okay?" I snapped. "And don't pretend to know what I may or may not be feeling."

I sped up to walk with Mr. Weasley.

"So how does everyone get there without all the Muggles noticing?" I asked.

"It's been a massive organizational problem," sighed Mr. Weasley. "The trouble is, about a hundred thousand wizards turn up at the World Cup, and of course, we just haven't got a magical site big enough to accommodate them all. There are places Muggles can't penetrate, but imagine trying to pack a hundred thousand wizards into Diagon Alley or platform nine and three-quarters. So we had to find a nice deserted moor, and set up as many anti-Muggle precautions as possible. The whole Ministry's been working on it for months. First, of course, we have to stagger the arrivals. People with cheaper tickets have to arrive two weeks beforehand. A limited number use Muggle transport, but we can't have too many clogging up their buses and trains - remember, wizards are coming from all over the world. Some Apparate, of course, but we have to set up safe points for them to appear, well away from Muggles. I believe there's a handy wood they're using as the Apparition point. For those who don't want to Apparate, or can't, we use Portkeys. They're objects that are used to transport wizards from one spot to another at a prearranged time. You can do large groups at a time if you need to. There have been two hundred Portkeys placed at strategic points around Britain, and the nearest one to us is up at the top of Stoatshead Hill, so that's where we're headed."

Mr. Weasley pointed ahead of us, where a large black mass rose beyond the village of Ottery St. Catchpole.

"What sort of objects are Portkeys?" I said curiously.

"Well, they can be anything," said Mr. Weasley. "Unobtrusive things, obviously, so Muggles don't go picking them up and playing with them… stuff they'll just think is litter…"

* * *

POV CLAIRE GIBBS:

We trudged down the dark, dank lane toward the village, the silence broken only by our footsteps. The sky lightened very slowly as we made our way through the village, its inky blackness diluting to deepest blue.

My hands and feet were freezing.

Mr. Weasley kept checking his watch. We didn't have breath to spare for talking as we began to climb Stoatshead Hill, stumbling occasionally in hidden rabbit holes, slipping on thick black tuffets of grass. Each breath I took was sharp in my chest and my legs were starting to seize up when, at last, my feet found level ground.

"Whew," panted Mr. Weasley, taking off his glasses and wiping them on his sweater. "Well, we've made good time - we've got ten minutes."

Hermione came over the crest of the hill last, clutching a stitch in her side.

"Now we just need the Portkey," said Mr. Weasley, replacing his glasses and squinting around at the ground. "It won't be big… Come on…"

We spread out, searching. Apparently George found himself searching the same piece of ground as I was.

"We should really split up, you know," I said. "We'll find it quicker."

"Now, now, Claire, I just wanted to talk to you," he smiled. "You never really answered me when I asked if you were okay."

"Well, I'm fine," I said briskly. "More than fine, even."

"I was just concerned, you know," he said, sounding a little hurt. "I don't exactly have a manual ready for what to do when a girl faints in your arms."

"I told you, I'm fine," I repeated stubbornly. "I wasn't fine then, but I'm fine now. I don't really want to think about it any more. Those were black days, I try not to remember the fragments I have left to remember. Cedric's helping me now and _I am fine_."

"You were also muttering his name until right before you fainted," George said quietly. "It seems at least like you got what you wanted."

I looked at him. Without the handsome, mischievous grin, and with the concerned frown, he was just a freckled, redheaded boy with a normal face. The grin was what made his face come alive.

"Do I sense sarcasm?" I asked.

Who does he think he is? I wondered. It's not even his business.

"I just want you to know, you _can_ get guys without having to feel all miserable about yourself," George stated. "There's better guys out there who won't allow you to feel miserable."

"I've never felt more happy in my entire life than when I'm with him," I said, starting to get a little angry. "He's the only one that makes me feel like I'm actually worth something."

He still didn't look satisfied.

"That's not how you're supposed to feel. You're supposed to feel like the prettiest- the best-"

He had only gotten halfway his sentence, however, when a shout rent the still air.

"Over here, Arthur! Over here, son, we've got it."

Two tall figures were silhouetted against the starry sky on the other side of the hilltop.

"Amos!" said Mr. Weasley, smiling as he strode over to the man who had shouted.

The rest of us followed. Mr. Weasley was shaking hands with a ruddy-faced wizard with a scrubby brown beard, who was holding a moldy-looking old boot in his other hand.

"This is Amos Diggory, everyone, Janice's uncle," said Mr. Weasley. "He works for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. And I think you know his son, Cedric?"

"Yes, we know him," I grinned, running into his arms, who closed around me in a hug.

"Hi," said Cedric, looking around at all my friends.

Everybody said hi back except Fred and George, who merely nodded. They had never quite forgiven Cedric for beating their team, Gryffindor, in the first Quidditch match of the previous year.

"Long walk, Arthur?" Cedric's father asked.

"Not too bad," said Mr. Weasley. "We live just on the other side of the village there. You?"

"Had to get up at two, didn't we, Ced? I tell you, I'll be glad when he's got his Apparition test. Still… not complaining… Quidditch World Cup, wouldn't miss it for a sackful of Galleons - and the tickets cost about that. Mind you, looks like I got off easy…"

Amos Diggory peered good-naturedly around at the three Weasley boys, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny.

"All these yours, Arthur?"

"Oh no, only the redheads," said Mr. Weasley, pointing out his children.

"You remember Hermione, don't you?" asked Janice. "I've told you about her-"

"Oh, yes, the smartest with you'd ever met, along with Claire," Amos Diggory said merrily.

"-and Harry, another friend of mine-"

"Merlin's beard," he said, his eyes widening. "Harry? Harry Potter? I never knew you were _that_ close-"

"Er - yeah," said Harry.

Harry was used to people looking curiously at him when they met him, used to the way their eyes moved at once to the lightning scar on his forehead, but I knew it always made him feel uncomfortable.

"These two talked about you, of course," said Amos Diggory, pointing toward his relatives. "Ced told us all about playing against you last year… I said to him, I said - Ced, that'll be something to tell your grandchildren, that will… You beat Harry Potter!"

Harry couldn't think of any reply to this, so he remained silent. Fred and George were both scowling again. Cedric looked slightly embarrassed.

"Harry fell off his broom, Dad," he muttered. "I told you… it was an accident…"

I laughed.

"You're so very honest," I said, kissing him on the lips.

"And of course I know the rest. All the time they spent at our house…" Janice's uncle said, beaming at them. "Bella, only with different hair, Lexie, who's grown into a beautiful woman, but nowhere near as beautiful as my son's new girlfriend, has she?"

I blushed, while Cedric smiled down at me and nodded.

"Must be nearly time," said Mr. Weasley quickly, pulling out his watch again. "Do you know whether we're waiting for any more, Amos?"

"No, the Lovegoods have been there for a week already and the Fawcetts couldn't get tickets," said Mr. Diggory. "There aren't any more of us in this area, are there?"

"Not that I know of," said Mr. Weasley. "Yes, it's a minute off… We'd better get ready…"

He looked around at Harry and Hermione.

"You just need to touch the Portkey, that's all, a finger will do -"

With difficulty, owing to our bulky backpacks, all of us crowded around the old boot held out by Amos Diggory. We all stood there, in a tight circle, as a chill breeze swept over the hilltop. Nobody spoke.

It suddenly occurred to me how odd this would look if a Muggle were to walk up here now… all these people, two of them grown men, clutching this manky old boot in the semidarkness, waiting… It made me smile.

Cedric held onto me tightly. "I've got you," he whispered.

"Three…" muttered Mr. Weasley, one eye still on his watch, 'two… one…"

It happened immediately: I felt as though a hook just behind my navel had been suddenly jerked irresistibly forward. My feet left the ground; I could feel Ron and Hermione on either side of me, their shoulders banging into mine and Ced's; all speeding forward in a howl of wind and swirling color; my forefinger was stuck to the boot as though it was pulling him magnetically onward and then –

My feet slammed into the ground; Ron staggered next to me and he fell over; the Portkey hit the ground near his head with a heavy thud. I looked up. Mr. Weasley, Mr. Diggory, and Cedric and I were still standing, though looking very windswept; everybody else was on the ground. "Seven past five from Stoatshead Hill," said a voice.

* * *

POV JANICE DIGGORY:

We had arrived on what appeared to be a deserted stretch of misty moor. In front of us was a pair of tired and grumpy-looking wizards, one of whom was holding a large gold watch, the other a thick roll of parchment and a quill. Both were dressed as Muggles, though very inexpertly: The man with the watch wore a tweed suit with thigh-length galoshes; his colleague, a kilt and a poncho.

"Morning, Basil," said Mr. Weasley, picking up the boot and handing it to the kilted wizard, who threw it into a large box of used Portkeys beside him; I could see an old newspaper, an empty drinks can, and a punctured football.

"Hello there, Arthur," said Basil wearily. "Not on duty, eh? It's all right for some… We've been here all night… You'd better get out of the way, we've got a big party coming in from the Black Forest at five fifteen. Hang on, I'll find your campsite… Weasley… Weasley…"

He consulted his parchment list.

"About a quarter of a mile's walk over there, first field you come to. Site manager's called Mr. Roberts. Diggory… second field… ask for Mr. Payne."

We trudged up the misty field between long rows of tents. Most looked almost ordinary; their owners had clearly tried to make them as Muggle-like as possible, but had slipped up by adding chimneys, or bellpulls, or weather vanes.

Though halfway up the field stood an extravagant confection of striped silk like a miniature palace, with several live peacocks tethered at the entrance. A little farther on they passed a tent that had three floors and several turrets; and a short way beyond that was a tent that had a front garden attached, complete with birdbath, sundial, and fountain.

"Always the same," said Mr. Weasley, smiling. "We can't resist showing off when we get together. Ah, here we are, look, this is us."

We had reached the very edge of the wood at the top of the field, and here was an empty space, with a small sign hammered into the ground that read WEEZLY.

"Couldn't have a better spot!" said Mr. Weasley happily. "The field is just on the other side of the wood there, we're as close as we could be."

He hoisted his backpack from his shoulders.

"Right," he said excitedly, "no magic allowed, strictly speaking, not when we're out in these numbers on Muggle land. We'll be putting these tents up by hand! Shouldn't be too difficult… Muggles do it all the time… Here, Harry, where do you reckon we should start?"

I was fully aware of the fact that Harry had never been camping in his life, Bella's and Lexie's parents preferred hotels, and that my mom always set up the tent using magic, so the only one remaining there to help were Claire and Hermione. They'd been camping a couple of times, and within no time it was done.

"We'll be a bit cramped," Mr. Weasley called, "but I think we'll all squeeze in. Come and have a look."

I bent down, ducked under the tent flap and entered. I had walked into what looked like an old-fashioned, three room flat, complete with bathroom and kitchen.

"My parents have a tent just like this," I told Harry, who was staring at it with his mouth open.

"You'll catch flies, darling," said Lexie shortly, she, of course, being perfectly able to hide her amazement.

"We'll need water…" Mr. Weasley said, scratching his balding head.

"There's a tap marked on this map the Muggle gave us," said Ron, who had followed Harry and me inside the tent. "It's on the other side of the field."

"Well, why don't you, Harry, and Bella go and get us some water then" - Mr. Weasley handed over the kettle and a couple of saucepans - "and the rest of us will get some wood for a fire?"

"But we've got an oven," said Ron. "Why can't we just -"

"Ron, anti-Muggle security!" said Mr. Weasley, his face shining with anticipation. "When real Muggles camp, they cook on fires outdoors. I've seen them at it!"

After a quick tour of the girls' tent, which was slightly smaller than the boys', though without the smell of cats, Harry, Ron, and Bella set off across the campsite with the kettle and saucepans.

Now, with the sun newly risen and the mist lifting, I could see the city of tents that stretched in every direction. Fellow campers were starting to wake up. First to stir were the families with small children. A tiny boy no older than two was crouched outside a large pyramid-shaped tent, holding a wand and poking happily at a slug in the grass, which was swelling slowly to the size of a salami. His mother came hurrying out of the tent.

"How many times, Kevin? You don't - touch - Daddy's - wand - yecchh!"

She had trodden on the giant slug, which burst. Her scolding carried after them on the still air, mingling with the little boy's yells - "You bust slug! You bust slug!"

A short way farther on, they saw two little witches, barely older than Kevin, who were riding toy broomsticks that rose only high enough for the girls' toes to skim the dewy grass. A Ministry wizard had already spotted them; as he hurried past me he muttered distractedly, "In broad daylight! Parents having a lie-in, I suppose -"

"I can't believe how people can be so careless with Muggles present!" Claire huffed.

"I don't think they know what Muggles think normal," I sighed. "That guy that showed us the campsite was wearing a kilt and a poncho."

"I think every grown witch or wizard knows Muggles don't have brooms or toy brooms," Lexie said, coming up next to me, Hermione by her side.

Here and there adult wizards and witches were emerging from their tents and starting to cook breakfast. Some, with furtive looks around them, conjured fires with their wands; others were striking matches with dubious looks on their faces, as though sure this couldn't work.

Three African wizards sat in serious conversation, all of them wearing long white robes and roasting what looked like a rabbit on a bright purple fire, while a group of middle-aged American witches sat gossiping happily beneath a spangled banner stretched between their tents that read: THE SALEM WITCHES' INSTITUTE.

I caught snatches of conversation in strange languages from the inside of tents, and though I couldn't understand a word, the tone of every single voice was excited.

Out of one tent came two men, clearly having a heated argument. One of them was a very old wizard who was wearing a long flowery nightgown. The other was clearly a Ministry wizard; he was holding out a pair of pinstriped trousers and almost crying with exasperation.

"Just put them on, Archie, there's a good chap. You can't walk around like that, the Muggle at the gate's already getting suspicious–"

"I bought this in a Muggle shop," said the old wizard stubbornly. "Muggles wear them."

"Muggle _women_ wear them, Archie, not the men, they wear these," said the Ministry wizard, and he brandished the pinstriped trousers.

"I'm not putting them on," said old Archie in indignation. "I like a healthy breeze 'round my privates, thanks."

Hermione was overcome with such a strong fit of the giggles at this point that Archie looked her way. He shrugged and walked in the same direction Harry, Ron and Bella had, carrying a bucket. Lexie pointed out a large group of teenagers whom he had never seen before.

"Who d'you reckon they are?" she said. "They don't go to Hogwarts, do they?"

"'Spect they go to some foreign school," I said. "I know there are others. Never met anyone who went to one, though. Cedric had a penfriend at a school in Brazil… this was years and years ago… and he wanted to go on an exchange trip but uncle Amos and mum wouldn't let him. His penfriend got all offended when he said he wasn't going and sent him a cursed hat. It made his ears shrivel up."

"So stupid, I never realized Hogwarts couldn't be the only school," Lexie mused.

She glanced at Hermione, who looked utterly unsurprised by the information. No doubt she had run across the news about other wizarding schools in some book or other.

"Maybe we could go talk to some of them later," the blonde girl said, eyeing some handsome tall, dark boys who were chatting in a language unknown to me. "That's proper man candy."

"Well, don't count me in," Claire said immediately. Lexie glanced at Hermione and me questioningly. "Why not?" I said. "We're going to have to figure out what language they speak, though."

"Hmmm, guessing they're African we'd best try French," Lexie said lightly, looking to Hermione. "And you, Mione? You coming?"

"I'm not I sure I can," she said, blushing.

"Don't worry, Janice and I will be your wingmen- wingwomen," Lexie laughed, winking at me.

Hermione was still in doubt.

"I don't know about this-"

But on the count of three, Lexie and I had already grasping one of Hermione's arms each, and dragged her toward the group of guys, Claire watching with a grin on her face.

* * *

POV BELLA MCLAGGEN:

"Er - is it my eyes, or has everything gone green?" said Ron.

It wasn't just Ron's eyes.

We had walked into a patch of tents that were all covered with a thick growth of shamrocks, so that it looked as though small, oddly shaped hillocks had sprouted out of the earth. Grinning faces could be seen under those that had their flaps open. Then, from behind them, we heard our names.

"Harry! Ron! Bella!"

It was Seamus Finnigan, a fellow Gryffindor fourth year. He was sitting in front of his own shamrock-covered tent, with a sandy-haired woman who had to be his mother, and his best friend, Dean Thomas, also of Gryffindor.

"Like the decorations?" said Seamus, grinning. "The Ministry's not too happy."

"Ah, why shouldn't we show our colors?" said Mrs. Finnigan. "You should see what the Bulgarians have got dangling all over their tents. You'll be supporting Ireland, of course?" she added, eyeing Harry, Ron, and me beadily.

When we had assured her that we were indeed supporting Ireland, we set off again, though, as Ron said, "Like we'd say anything else surrounded by that lot."

"I wonder what the Bulgarians have got dangling all over their tents?" I said.

"Let's go and have a look," said Harry, pointing to a large patch of tents upfield, where the Bulgarian flag - white, green, and red - was fluttering in the breeze.

The tents here had not been bedecked with plant life, but each and every one of them had the same poster attached to it, a poster of a very surly face with heavy black eyebrows. The picture was, of course, moving, but all it did was blink and scowl.

"Krum," said Ron quietly.

"What?" said Harry.

"Krum!" said Ron. "Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker!"

"He looks really grumpy," Harry said, making me laugh, looking around at the many Krums blinking and scowling at them.

"Really grumpy?" Ron raised his eyes to the heavens. "Who cares what he looks like? He's unbelievable. He's really young too. Only just eighteen or something. He's a genius, you wait until tonight, you'll see."

"I believe you're in love, Ron," I joked, and he dismissed it with a grin.

There was already a small queue for the tap in the corner of the field. Harry, Ron, and I joined it. I was just staring around at other Bulgarian tents when I heard someone call me out.

"Oi, savage!"

I wheeled around and saw Zabini walking toward us, carrying a flask in his hand, also joining in the queue.

"What a coincidence, our little Gryffindor savage has also come to the World Cup," he said, grinning.

"Sod off," I snarled, gritting my teeth.

"I was only going to get some water," Zabini said innocently. "How else will me and my poor mother avoid dehydration?"

"Come back later," I said. "Or better, suffer from dehydration. I prefer the last one."

"Ouch, that hurt…"

Zabini was pouting, his free hand on his chest. He was wearing a tight black T-shirt, I noticed, and though he wasn't very broad, he would be quite muscled later. Looks can be deceiving, I reminded myself. It's mostly the handsome ones who are the most arrogant.

"What do you want, Zabini?" Ron sighed.

"Nothing alarming, I just wanted to talk to your little savage friend, Weasley," the dark boy said.

"Don't call her savage all the time," Harry snapped.

"Oh, come on, just look at her," Zabini sneered. "Ripped jeans, supersized sweater, messy bun, I wouldn't call that typically sophisticated."

"And you know an awful lot about clothes for a guy," I retorted, not knowing anything better to say to him.

"Now, I wouldn't want there to be hostility between us," he said, smiling wickedly.

"There already is!" I protested. "I'm so sick and tired of you calling me names all the time, and also for just generally being an annoying prick."

"And I can name quite a large number of things I don't like about you, but why don't we settle this once and for all?" Zabini suggested. "How about a bet, my dearest savage?"

I opened my mouth, but no words followed. I didn't have the best experience with Zabini and his bets. The last time we bet over something it ended up with Janice turning into a werewolf. But saying no was unthinkable.

"You're not scared, are you?" the Slytherin boy huffed. "The only endearing trait Gryffindor has is bravery, and now you're scared? Oh, _please_…"

"I'm not scared!"

"Bells… I don't know if this is such a good idea…" Ron whispered.

"I'm not scared, especially not of him," I hissed, glaring as fiercely at Zabini as I possibly could. "What d'you wanna bet about?"

"How about the match?" the dark boy said. "Who do you think will win?"

"Ireland, surely," I said, not sure where this was going. "They've got the best team."

"Hmmm, very well," Zabini contradicted. "But Bulgaria's got Krum. He must catch the Snitch."

"Ireland's got a fine Seeker as well, and Bulgaria's got one good player, Ireland has seven," I said. "Ireland's gotta win. I know they will."

"Fine, I bet Krum's going to catch the Snitch," he insisted.

"Then I'll bet Lynch will catch it," I said. "What if you lose?"

"The loser has to do anything the winner commands him to for the coming schoolyear," proposed Zabini, sticking out his hand, "Deal?"

I couldn't refuse. He'd call me a coward for the rest of my days. And Lynch has got a pretty good chance of catching the Snitch. Ireland's Beaters are gold.

"Deal," I agreed, shaking his hand.

* * *

**All righty, fellas... **

**1. Who pities Lexie? Do you think it was okay for her to snap at Harry? Any more thoughts on DracoxLexie? Should they get back together?**

**2. Love/like/hate ClairexCedric? Who likes Claire's and George's friendship (well, if you could call it that)?**

**3. Janice's POV was not very exciting this time, I know, but should I write about Hermione, Lexie and her talking to those guys next chapter or should I just mention it?**

**4. Bella's and Zabini's bet... thoughts? Who's gonna win? How do you think it's gonna be after that (or what do you hope)? **


	4. the World Cup

**This update is a quick one. Don't expect too much of it, though, I'm not very happy with it. Very canon. But necessary. **

* * *

_**Ch. 4 The World Cup**_

POV BELLA MCLAGGEN:

A sense of excitement rose like a palpable cloud over the campsite as the afternoon wore on. By dusk, the still summer air itself seemed to be quivering with anticipation, and as darkness spread like a curtain over the thousands of waiting wizards, the last vestiges of pretence disappeared: the Ministry seemed to have bowed to the inevitable and stopped fighting the signs of blatant magic now breaking out everywhere.

Salesmen were Apparating every few feet, carrying trays and pushing carts full of extraordinary merchandise. There were luminous rosettes - green for Ireland, red for Bulgaria - which were squealing the names of the players, pointed green hats bedecked with dancing shamrocks, Bulgarian scarves adorned with lions that really roared, flags from both countries that played their national anthems as they were waved; there were tiny models of Firebolts that really flew, and collectible figures of famous players, which strolled across the palm of your hand, preening themselves.

"Been saving my pocket money all summer for this," Ron told us as we strolled through the salesmen, buying souvenirs.

Though Ron purchased a dancing shamrock hat and a large green rosette, he also bought a small figure of Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker. The miniature Krum walked backward and forward over Ron's hand, scowling up at the green rosette above him.

I remembered the bet and bought the greenest Ireland stuff I could find. I hoped they'd bring luck. The other girls hadn't really bought anything, but they all made sure they had something green to wear at the match.

"Wow, look at these!" said Harry, hurrying over to a cart piled high with what looked like brass binoculars, except that they were covered with all sorts of weird knobs and dials.

"Omnioculars," said the saleswizard eagerly. "You can replay action… slow everything down… and they flash up a play-by- play breakdown if you need it. Bargain - ten Galleons each."

"Wish I hadn't bought this now," said Ron, gesturing at his dancing shamrock hat and gazing longingly at the Omnioculars.

"Seven pairs," said Harry firmly to the wizard.

"No - don't bother," said Ron, going red. He was always touchy about the fact that Harry, who had inherited a small fortune from his parents, had much more money than he did.

"You won't be getting anything for Christmas," Harry told him, thrusting Omnioculars into his and Hermione's hands. "For about ten years, mind."

"Fair enough," said Ron, grinning.

"I'll pay you back, promise," I said, and Janice, Lexie, and Claire, who could easily afford it, said the same.

"Oooh, thanks, Harry," said Hermione. "And I'll get us some programs, look -"

Money bags considerably lighter, we went back to the tents. Bill, Charlie, and Ginny were all sporting green rosettes too, and Mr. Weasley was carrying an Irish flag. Fred and George had no souvenirs as they had given Bagman all their gold, betting the same as Zabini had.

Not that that worried me. Not at all. Ireland was great. Ireland would win… surely.

And then a deep, booming gong sounded somewhere beyond the woods, and at once, green and red lanterns blazed into life in the trees, lighting a path to the field.

"It's time!" said Mr. Weasley, looking as excited as any of them. "Come on, let's go!"

Clutching the purchases, Mr. Weasley in the lead, we all hurried into the wood, following the lantern-lit trail. We could hear the sounds of thousands of people moving around them, shouts and laughter, snatches of singing.

The atmosphere of feverish excitement was highly infectious; I couldn't stop grinning. We walked through the wood for twenty minutes, talking and joking loudly, until at last we emerged on the other side and found ourselves in the shadow of a gigantic stadium. Though I could see only a fraction of the immense gold walls surrounding the field, I could tell that ten cathedrals would fit comfortably inside it.

"Seats a hundred thousand," said Mr. Weasley, spotting the awestruck look on Harry's face (I forgot how he wasn't used to any of this). "Ministry task force of five hundred have been working on it all year. Muggle Repelling Charms on every inch of it. Every time Muggles have got anywhere near here all year, they've suddenly remembered urgent appointments and had to dash away again… bless them," he added fondly, leading the way toward the nearest entrance, which was already surrounded by a swarm of shouting witches and wizards.

"Prime seats!" said the Ministry witch at the entrance when she checked the tickets. "Top Box! Straight upstairs, Arthur, and as high as you can go."

The stairs into the stadium were carpeted in rich purple. We clambered upward with the rest of the crowd, which slowly filtered away through doors into the stands to their left and right. We kept climbing, and at last we reached the top of the staircase and found ourselves in a small box, set at the highest point of the stadium and situated exactly halfway between the golden goal posts.

About twenty purple-and-gilt chairs stood in two rows here, and I, filing into the front seats with the rest, looked down upon a scene the likes of which he could never have imagined. A hundred thousand witches and wizards were taking their places in the seats, which rose in levels around the long oval field. Everything was suffused with a mysterious golden light, which seemed to come from the stadium itself.

The field looked smooth as velvet from their lofty position. At either end of the field stood three goal hoops, fifty feet high; right opposite them, almost at eye level, was a gigantic blackboard. Gold writing kept dashing across it as though an invisible giant's hand were scrawling upon the blackboard and then wiping it off again; watching it, I saw that it was flashing advertisements across the field.

_The Bluebottle: A Broom for All the Family - safe, reliable, and with Built-in Anti-Burgler Buzzer… Mrs. Shower's All Purpose Magical Mess Remover: No Pain, No Stain!… Gladrags Wizardwear - London, Paris, Hogsmeade…_

I tore my eyes away from the sign and looked over my shoulder to see who else was sharing the box with us. So far it was empty, except for a tiny creature sitting in the second from last seat at the end of the row behind them. It was a house-elf.

"Dobby?" said Harry incredulously.

"Did sir just call me Dobby?" squeaked the elf curiously from between its fingers.

"I'm sorry, he's never seen another house-elf before," I said. "Dobby's the only one he knows."

"But I knows Dobby too, miss!" squeaked the elf.

She was shielding her face, as though blinded by light, though the Top Box was not brightly lit.

"My name is Winky, miss- and you, sir-" Her dark brown eyes widened to the size of side plates as they rested upon Harry's scar. "You is surely Harry Potter!"

"Yeah, I am," said Harry.

"But Dobby talks of you all the time, sir!" she said, lowering her hands very slightly and looking awestruck.

"How is he?" said Harry. "How's freedom suiting him?"

"Ah, sir," said Winky, shaking her head, "ah sir, meaning no disrespect, sir, but I is not sure you did Dobby a favour, sir, when you is setting him free."

"Why?" said Harry, taken aback. "What's wrong with him?"

"Freedom is going to Dobby's head, sir," said Winky sadly. "Ideas above his station, sir. Can't get another position, sir."

"Why not?" said Harry.

Winky lowered her voice by a half-octave and whispered, "He is wanting paying for his work, sir."

"Paying?" said Harry blankly. "Well - why shouldn't he be paid?"

"Er- Harry, I've never met a house-elf who wanted to get paid before," I explained. "It's considered very weird."

"But it's the right thing to do, isn't it?"

"I think you should just treat your house-elf right," I said. "They love doing things for you. My elf, Tippy, she's a doll. We treat her well. My parents treat her better than me, come to think of it."

Winky looked quite horrified at the idea and closed her fingers slightly so that her face was half-hidden again.

"House-elves is not paid, sir!" she said in a muffled squeak. "No, no, no. I says to Dobby, I says, go find yourself a nice family and settle down, Dobby. He is getting up to all sorts of high jinks, sir, what is unbecoming to a house-elf. You goes racketing around like this, Dobby, I says, and next thing I hear you's up in front of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, like some common goblin."

"Well, it's about time he had a bit of fun," said Harry.

"House-elves is not supposed to have fun, Harry Potter," said Winky firmly, from behind her hands. "House-elves does what they is told. I is not liking heights at all, Harry Potter" - she glanced toward the edge of the box and gulped - "but my master sends me to the Top Box and I comes, sir."

"See?" I said. "Wait- that's not very kind at all-"

"Why's he sent you up here, if he knows you don't like heights?" said Harry, frowning.

"Master - master wants me to save him a seat, Harry Potter. He is very busy," said Winky, tilting her head toward the empty space beside her. "Winky is wishing she is back in master's tent, Harry Potter, but Winky does what she is told. Winky is a good house-elf."

She gave the edge of the box another frightened look and hid her eyes completely again. Harry turned back to the others.

"So that's a house-elf?" Ron muttered. "Weird things, aren't they?"

"Dobby was weirder," said Harry fervently.

Ron pulled out his Omnioculars and started testing them, staring down into the crowd on the other side of the stadium.

"Wild!" he said, twiddling the replay knob on the side. "I can make that old bloke down there pick his nose again… and again… and again…"

"Gross," muttered Lexie, while I cried, "Let me see!"

Hermione, meanwhile, was skimming eagerly through her velvetcovered, tasseled program, Janice and Claire looking over her shoulder.

"'A display from the team mascots will precede the match,'" she read aloud.

"Oh that's always worth watching," said Mr. Weasley. "National teams bring creatures from their native land, you know, to put on a bit of a show."

The box filled gradually around them over the next half hour. Mr. Weasley kept shaking hands with people who were obviously very important wizards. Percy jumped to his feet so often that he looked as though he were trying to sit on a hedgehog.

When Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic himself, arrived, Percy bowed so low that his glasses fell off and shattered. Highly embarrassed, he repaired them with his wand and thereafter remained in his seat, throwing jealous looks at Harry, whom Cornelius Fudge had greeted like an old friend. They had met before, and Fudge shook Harry's hand in a fatherly fashion, asked how he was, and introduced him to the wizards on either side of him.

"Harry Potter, you know," he told the Bulgarian minister loudly, who was wearing splendid robes of black velvet trimmed with gold and didn't seem to understand a word of English. "Harry Potter… oh come on now, you know who he is… the boy who survived You-Know-Who… you do know who he is -"

I bet the Minister found my hair dye very convenient, so he could pretend he didn't recognize me.

"Knew we'd get there in the end," said Fudge wearily to Harry. "I'm no great shakes at languages; I need Barty Crouch for this sort of thing. Ah, I see his house-elf's saving him a seat… Good job too, these Bulgarian blighters have been trying to cadge all the best places… ah, and here's Lucius!"

Everyone except Lexie turned very quickly, but she remained the way she was, only I realized her body had tensed incredibly. Edging along the second row to three still-empty seats right behind Mr. Weasley were none other than Dobby the house-elf's former owners: Lucius Malfoy; his son, Draco; and a woman I supposed must be Draco's mother.

Draco Malfoy and I had been enemies ever since our very first journey to Hogwarts. A pale boy with a pointed face and white-blond hair, Draco greatly resembled his father. His mother was blonde too; tall and slim, she would have been nice-looking if she hadn't been wearing a look that suggested there was a nasty smell under her nose.

"Ah, Fudge," said Mr. Malfoy, holding out his hand as he reached the Minister of Magic. "How are you? I don't think you've met my wife, Narcissa? Or our son, Draco?"

I thought I noticed a slight quiver in Lexie's body at the mention of his name.

"How do you do, how do you do?" said Fudge, smiling and bowing to Mrs. Malfoy. "And allow me to introduce you to Mr. Oblansk - Obalonsk - Mr. - well, he's the Bulgarian Minister of Magic, and he can't understand a word I'm saying anyway, so never mind. And let's see who else - you know Arthur Weasley, I daresay?"

It was a tense moment. Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy looked at each other and I vividly recalled the last time they had come face-to-face: It had been in Flourish and Blotts' bookshop, and they had had a fight. Mr. Malfoy's cold gray eyes swept over Mr. Weasley, and then up and down the row.

"Good lord, Arthur," he said softly. "What did you have to sell to get seats in the Top Box? Surely your house wouldn't have fetched this much?"

I clenched my fist and had the dearest desire to say anything, but I knew that would only make things worse. I didn't want to get kicked out of the stadium. At least, not yet.

* * *

POV CLAIRE GIBBS:

Fudge, who wasn't listening, said, "Lucius has just given a very generous contribution to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, Arthur. He's here as my guest."

"How - how nice," said Mr. Weasley, with a very strained smile.

I couldn't possibly believe Mr. Malfoy's actions had been altruistic, when he donated that money. Mr. Malfoy's eyes had returned to Hermione, who went slightly pink, but stared determinedly back at him.

I knew exactly what was making Mr. Malfoy's lip curl like that. The Malfoys prided themselves on being purebloods; in other words, they considered anyone of Muggle descent, like Hermione, second-class.

Lexie was also Muggle-born, of course, but the Jones family was such a large pureblood family (adding the fact she did descent from them, spoke Parseltongue and everything) that everyone just assumed she was pureblood.

However, under the gaze of the Minister of Magic, Mr. Malfoy didn't dare say anything. He nodded sneeringly to Mr. Weasley and continued down the line to his seats, the Minister following him out of earshot.

The youngest Malfoy, however, moved a fraction closer to us, saying softly, "How are you, Lexie?"

His tone did not have as much arrogance as it used to, though he was trying to sound very casual.

"Just go away, Malfoy, you're not helping anyone with this," Hermione said.

"I don't think I asked you anything, Mudblood," Malfoy sneered.

"Seriously, clear off, Malfoy!" Bella said. "She doesn't want to talk to you!"

Draco shot us one contemptuous look, then settled himself between his mother and father.

"Slimy gits," Ron muttered, giving a careful side glance at Lexie. "You okay?"

"You don't need to ask if I'm okay all the time!" she snapped. "Can we just watch the game?"

_"Ladies and gentlemen… welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!" _

The spectators screamed and clapped. Thousands of flags waved, adding their discordant national anthems to the racket. The huge blackboard opposite them was wiped clear of its last message (Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans - A Risk With Every Mouthful!) and now showed BULGARIA: 0, IRELAND: 0.

_"And now, without further ado, allow me to introduce… the Bulgarian National Team Mascots!" _

The right-hand side of the stands, which was a solid block of scarlet, roared its approval. "I wonder what they've brought," said Mr. Weasley, leaning forward in his seat. "Aaah!"

He suddenly whipped off his glasses and polished them hurriedly on his robes. "Veela!"

"What are veel -?"

But a hundred veela were now gliding out onto the field, and Harry's question was answered for him. Veela were women… the most beautiful women I had ever seen… except that they weren't - they couldn't be - human. What could make their skin shine moon-bright like that, or their white-gold hair fan out behind them without wind… most importantly, who could make my hair look like that…

"Look at Harry!" Lexie suddenly giggled.

For a second I was surprised by her mood swings, but then I saw what he was doing. He was practically _drooling_. Ron, his brothers and Mr. Weasley weren't doing any better. Bella, Hermione and Janice had noticed too.

"I'm actually a little worried…." Hermione muttered.

"We should have brought a camera!" Bella laughed.

"Oh god, what's Harry doing?" Janice piped up. "Stop him!"

He was standing up, and one of his legs was resting on the wall of the box.

"What, he's not going to jump, is he?" said Lexie, suddenly sounding a little worried.

"Harry, what are you doing?" Hermione snapped.

He blinked. Ron, in the mean time, was busy shredding up his shamrocks.

"You'll be wanting that once Ireland have had their say," Mr. Weasley said, smiling and taking the hat from him.

Hermione made a loud tutting noise. She reached up and pulled Harry back into his seat. "Honestly!" she said.

_"And now kindly put your wands in the air… for the Irish National Team Mascots!" _

Next moment, what seemed to be a great green-and-gold comet came zooming into the stadium. It did one circuit of the stadium, then split into two smaller comets, each hurtling toward the goal posts. A rainbow arced suddenly across the field, connecting the two balls of light. The crowd oooohed and aaaaahed, as though at a fireworks display.

Now the rainbow faded and the balls of light reunited and merged; they had formed a great shimmering shamrock, which rose up into the sky and began to soar over the stands. Something like golden rain seemed to be falling from it –

"Excellent!" yelled Ron as the shamrock soared over them, and heavy gold coins rained from it, bouncing off their heads and seats. Squinting up at the shamrock, I realized that it was actually comprised of thousands of tiny little bearded men with red vests, each carrying a minute lamp of gold or green.

"Leprechauns!" said Mr. Weasley over the tumultuous applause of the crowd, many of whom were still fighting and rummaging around under their chairs to retrieve the gold.

"There you go," Ron yelled happily, stuffing a fistful of gold coins into Harry's hand, "for the Omnioculars! Now you've got to buy me a Christmas present, ha!"

The great shamrock dissolved, the leprechauns drifted down onto the field on the opposite side from the veela, and settled themselves cross-legged to watch the match.

_"And now, ladies and gentlemen, kindly welcome - the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team! I give you - Dimitrov!" _

A scarlet-clad figure on a broomstick, moving so fast it was blurred, shot out onto the field from an entrance far below, to wild applause from the Bulgarian supporters.

_"Ivanova!" _

A second scarlet-robed player zoomed out.

_"Zograf! Levski! Vulchanov! Volkov! Aaaaaaand - Krum!" _

"That's him, that's him!" yelled Ron, following Krum with his Omnioculars.

I quickly focused my own. Viktor Krum was thin, dark, and sallow-skinned, with a large curved nose and thick black eyebrows. He looked like an overgrown bird of prey. It was hard to believe he was only eighteen.

"He's got something about him," muttered Lexie. "He's not particularly handsome but he's got something."

"He does," Janice agreed, giggling. "Some sort of Eastern European charm."

_"And now, please greet - the Irish National Quidditch Team! Presenting - Connolly! Ryan! Troy! Mullet! Moran! Quigley! Aaaaaand - Lynch!" _

Seven green blurs swept onto the field; I spun a small dial on the side of the Omnioculars and slowed the players down enough to read the word "Firebolt" on each of their brooms and see their names, embroidered in silver, upon their backs.

This was really useful for the match.

_ "And here, all the way from Egypt, our referee, acclaimed Chairwizard of the International Association of Quidditch, Hassan Mostafa!"_

A small and skinny wizard, completely bald but with a moustache, wearing robes of pure gold to match the stadium, strode out onto the field. A silver whistle was protruding from under the moustache, and he was carrying a large wooden crate under one arm, his broomstick under the other.

I spun the speed dial on my Omnioculars back to normal, watching closely as Mostafa mounted his broomstick and kicked the crate open - four balls burst into the air: the scarlet Quaffle, the two black Bludgers, and (I saw it for the briefest moment, before it sped out of sight) the minuscule, winged Golden Snitch. With a sharp blast on his whistle, Mostafa shot into the air after the balls.

* * *

POV LEXIE JONES:

_"Theeeeeeeey're OFF! And it's Mullet! Troy! Moran! Dimitrov! Back to Mullet! Troy! Levski! Moran!" _

It was Quidditch as I had never seen it played beforeThe speed of the players was incredible - the Chasers were throwing the Quaffle to one another so fast that Bagman only had time to say their names. This was nothing compared to the child's play we did at Hogwarts.

HAWKSHEAD ATTACKING FORMATION, I read as I watched the three Irish Chasers zoom closely together, Troy in the center, slightly ahead of Mullet and Moran, bearing down upon the Bulgarians.

PORSKOFF PLOY flashed up next, as Troy made as though to dart upward with the Quaffle, drawing away the Bulgarian Chaser Ivanova and dropping the Quaffle to Moran.

One of the Bulgarian Beaters, Volkov, swung hard at a passing Bludger with his small club, knocking it into Moran's path; Moran ducked to avoid the Bludger and dropped the Quaffle; and Levski, soaring beneath, caught it – Troy took the Quaffle for him, raced toward the Bulgarian goals, and-

_"TROY SCORES! Ten zero to Ireland!" _

"What?" Harry yelled, looking wildly around through his Omnioculars. "But Levski's got the Quaffle!"

"Harry, if you're not going to watch at normal speed, you're going to miss things!" shouted Hermione, who was dancing up and down with us, waving her arms in the air while Troy did a lap of honour around the field.

I never knew much, but I knew enough about Quidditch to see that the Irish Chasers were superb. They worked as a seamless team, their movements so well coordinated that they appeared to be reading one another's minds as they positioned themselves, and the rosette on Harry's chest kept squeaking their names: "Troy - Mullet - Mo ran!" Quite annoying, really.

And within ten minutes, Ireland had scored twice more, bringing their lead to thirty-zero and causing a thunderous tide of roars and applause from the greenclad supporters. Bella was ecstatic when the Irish scored.

"I thought we were the neutrals," I had to scream in her ear (for the noise in the stadium was so loud), "why are you suddenly so supportive of Ireland?"

"I- er- made a bet," she said, with a voice so innocent something had to be wrong.

"With who?" I asked.

"Zabini," came the reply.

"Ooooh- not good," I warned her. "Never bet against a Slytherin. Especially not Zabini. He's the master of bets. I better hope for you Ireland wins."

The match became still faster, but more brutal. Volkov and Vulchanov, the Bulgarian Beaters, were whacking the Bludgers as fiercely as possible at the Irish Chasers, and were starting to prevent them from using some of their best moves; twice they were forced to scatter, and then, finally, Ivanova managed to break through their ranks; dodge the Keeper, Ryan; and score Bulgaria's first goal.

As happy as Bella was when the Irish scored, as upset she was now.

"Calm down, it's only one goal," I said. "And if Lynch catches the Snitch it's over anyways."

"Dimitrov! Levski! Dimitrov! Ivanova - oh I say!"

One hundred thousand wizards gasped as the two Seekers, Krum and Lynch, plummeted through the center of the Chasers, so fast that it looked as though they had just jumped from airplanes without parachutes. I followed their descent through the Omnioculars, squinting to see where the Snitch was –

"They're going to crash!" screamed Hermione.

She was half right - at the very last second, Viktor Krum pulled out of the dive and spiraled off. Lynch, however, hit the ground with a dull thud that could be heard throughout the stadium. A huge groan rose from the Irish seats.

"No!" yelled Bella frantically. "He can't crash, he's got to catch the Snitch for me!"

"Fool!" moaned Mr. Weasley. "Krum was feinting!"

_"It's time-out, as trained mediwizards hurry onto the field to examine Aidan Lynch!" _

"He'll be okay, he only got ploughed!" Charlie said reassuringly to Ginny, who was hanging over the side of the box, looking horror-struck. "Which is what Krum was after, of course…"

I hastily pressed the replay and play-by-play buttons on the Omnioculars, twiddled the speed dial, and put them back up to his eyes. I watched as Krum and Lynch dived again in slow motion. WRONSKI DEFENSIVE FEINT - DANGEROUS SEEKER DIVERSION read the shining purple lettering across his lenses.

I saw Krum's face contorted with concentration as he pulled out of the dive just in time, while Lynch was flattened, and I understood - Krum hadn't seen the Snitch at all, he was just making Lynch copy him. Very clever.

I had never seen anyone fly like that; Krum hardly looked as though he was using a broomstick at all; he moved so easily through the air that he looked unsupported and weightless.

I turned my Omnioculars back to normal and focused them on Krum. He was now circling high above Lynch, who was being revived by mediwizards with cups of potion. I was focusing still more closely upon Krum's face, and saw his dark eyes darting all over the ground a hundred feet below. He was using the time while Lynch was revived to look for the Snitch without interference.

"Ever thinking of trying that one out, Harry?" I grinned. "The perfect excuse to end up in the infirmary; you've got a reputation to maintain, have you not?"

"Well, I'd rather not, actually," he replied. "There's some reputations I'd be glad to get rid of."

Lynch got to his feet at last, to loud cheers from the green-clad supporters, mounted his Firebolt, and kicked back off into the air. His revival seemed to give Ireland new heart.

When Mostafa blew his whistle again, the Chasers moved into action with a skill unrivaled by anything I had seen so far. After fifteen more fast and furious minutes, Ireland had pulled ahead by ten more goals.

They were now leading by one hundred and thirty points to ten, and the game was starting to get dirtier. As Mullet shot toward the goal posts yet again, clutching the Quaffle tightly under her arm, the Bulgarian Keeper, Zograf, flew out to meet her.

Whatever happened was over so quickly I didn't catch it, but a scream of rage from the Irish crowd, and Mostafa's long, shrill whistle blast, told me it had been a foul.

_"And Mostafa takes the Bulgarian Keeper to task for cobbing — excessive use of elbows! And - yes, it's a penalty to Ireland!" _

The leprechauns, who had risen angrily into the air like a swarm of glittering hornets when Mullet had been fouled, now darted together to form the words "HA, HA, HA!" The veela on the other side of the field leapt to their feet, tossed their hair angrily, and started to dance again.

As one, the Weasley boys and Harry stuffed their fingers into their ears, but I, who hadn't bothered, was soon tugging on Harry's arm. He turned to look at me, and I pulled his fingers impatiently out of his ears.

"Look at the referee!" I said, giggling.

Harry looked down at the field. Hassan Mostafa had landed right in front of the dancing veela, and was acting very oddly indeed. He was flexing his muscles and smoothing his moustache excitedly.

_"Now, we can't have that! Somebody slap the referee!" _

A mediwizard came tearing across the field, his fingers stuffed into his own ears, and kicked Mostafa hard in the shins. Mostafa seemed to come to himself; I was watching through the Omnioculars again, saw that he looked exceptionally embarrassed and had started shouting at the veela, who had stopped dancing and were looking mutinous.

_ "And unless I'm much mistaken, Mostafa is actually attempting to send off the Bulgarian team mascots! Now there's something we haven't seen before… Oh this could turn nasty…" _

It did: The Bulgarian Beaters, Volkov and Vulchanov, landed on either side of Mostafa and began arguing furiously with him, gesticulating toward the leprechauns, who had now gleefully formed the words "HEE, HEE, HEE."

Mostafa was not impressed by the Bulgarians' arguments, however; he was jabbing his finger into the air, clearly telling them to get flying again, and when they refused, he gave two short blasts on his whistle.

_"Two penalties for Ireland! And Volkov and Vulchanov had better get back on those brooms… yes… there they go… and Troy takes the Quaffle." _

Play now reached a level of ferocity beyond anything they had yet seen. The Beaters on both sides were acting without mercy: Volkov and Vulchanov in particular seemed not to care whether their clubs made contact with Bludger or human as they swung them violently through the air. Dimitrov shot straight at Moran, who had the Quaffle, nearly knocking her off her broom.

"Foul!" roared the Irish supporters as one, all standing up in a great wave of green.

_"Foul! Dimitrov skins Moran - deliberately flying to collide there - and it's got to be another penalty - yes, there's the whistle! Levski - Dimitrov - Moran - Troy - Mullet - Ivanova - Moran again - Moran - MORAN SCORES!" _

But the cheers of the Irish supporters were barely heard over the shrieks of the veela, the blasts now issuing from the Ministry members' wands, and the furious roars of the Bulgarians.

The game recommenced immediately; now Levski had the Quaffle, now Dimitrov - The Irish Beater Quigley swung heavily at a passing Bludger, and hit it as hard as possible toward Krum, who did not duck quickly enough. It hit him full in the face.

There was a deafening groan from the crowd; Krum's nose looked broken, there was blood everywhere, but Hassan Mostafa didn't blow his whistle. He had become distracted, and I couldn't blame him; one of the veela had thrown a handful of fire and set his broom tail alight.

I wanted someone to realize that Krum was injured; even though he was supporting Ireland, Krum was the most exciting player on the field. Ron obviously felt the same.

"Time-out! Ah, come on, he can't play like that, look at him -"

"Look at Lynch!" Harry yelled.

For the Irish Seeker had suddenly gone into a dive.

"I'm quite sure that this is no Wronski Feint; this is the real thing…" I said.

"He's seen the Snitch!" Harry shouted. "He's seen it! Look at him go!"

Half the crowd seemed to have realized what was happening; the Irish supporters rose in another great wave of green, screaming their Seeker on Bella was sitting on this edge of her chair, her face twist into a smile… but Krum was on his tail.

How he could see where he was going, I had no idea; there were flecks of blood flying through the air behind him, but he was drawing level with Lynch now as the pair of them hurtled toward the ground again –

"They're going to crash!" Janice squealed.

"No, they're not!" roared Ron.

"Lynch is!" Bella moaned.

* * *

POV JANICE DIGGORY:

And she was right - for the second time, Lynch hit the ground with tremendous force and was immediately stampeded by a horde of angry veela.

"The Snitch, where's the Snitch?" bellowed Charlie, along the row.

"He's got it - Krum's got it - it's all over!" shouted Harry.

"God, no!" shouted Bella, for a reason unknown to me, burying her head in her hands.

Krum, his red robes shining with blood from his nose, was rising gently into the air, his fist held high, a glint of gold in his hand. The scoreboard was flashing BULGARIA: 160, IRELAND: 170 across the crowd, who didn't seem to have realized what had happened.

Then, slowly, as though a great jumbo jet were revving up, the rumbling from the Ireland supporters grew louder and louder and erupted into screams of delight.

_"IRELAND WINS! KRUM GETS THE SNITCH - BUT IRELAND WINS — good lord, I don't think any of us were expecting that!" _

"What did he catch the Snitch for?" Ron bellowed, even as he jumped up and down, applauding with his hands over his head. "He ended it when Ireland were a hundred and sixty points ahead, the idiot!"

"He knew they were never going to catch up!" Harry shouted back over all the noise, also applauding loudly. "The Irish Chasers were too good… He wanted to end it on his terms, that's all…"

"He was very brave, wasn't he?" Hermione said, leaning forward to watch Krum land as a swarm of mediwizards blasted a path through the battling leprechauns and veela to get to him. "He looks a terrible mess…"

I put the Omnioculars to my eyes again. It was hard to see what was happening below, because leprechauns were zooming delightedly all over the field, but he could just make out Krum, surrounded by mediwizards.

He looked surlier than ever and refused to let them mop him up. His team members were around him, shaking their heads and looking dejected; a short way away, the Irish players were dancing gleefully in a shower of gold descending from their mascots. Flags were waving all over the stadium, the Irish national anthem blared from all sides; the veela were shrinking back into their usual, beautiful selves now, though looking dispirited and forlorn.

"Vell, ve fought bravely," said a gloomy voice behind me.

I looked around; it was the Bulgarian Minister of Magic.

"You _can_ speak English!" said Fudge, sounding outraged. "And you've been letting me mime everything all day!"

"Vell, it vos very funny," said the Bulgarian minister, shrugging. "And as the Irish team performs a lap of honour, flanked by their mascots, the Quidditch World Cup itself is brought into the Top Box!"

My eyes were suddenly dazzled by a blinding white light, as the Top Box was magically illuminated so that everyone in the stands could see the inside. Squinting toward the entrance, I saw two panting wizards carrying a vast golden cup into the box, which they handed to Cornelius Fudge, who was still looking very disgruntled that he'd been using sign language all day for nothing.

"Let's have a really loud hand for the gallant losers - Bulgaria!"

And up the stairs into the box came the seven defeated Bulgarian players. The crowd below was applauding appreciatively; I could see thousands and thousands of Omniocular lenses flashing and winking in our direction.

One by one, the Bulgarians filed between the rows of seats in the box, and Bagman called out the name of each as they shook hands with their own minister and then with Fudge.

Krum, who was last in line, looked a real mess. Two black eyes were blooming spectacularly on his bloody face. He was still holding the Snitch. I noticed that he seemed much less coordinated on the ground. He was slightly duck-footed and distinctly round-shouldered.

But when Krum's name was announced, the whole stadium gave him a resounding, earsplitting roar. He tried not to look at us too much, but Claire, Lexie, Bella, Hermione and I certainly caught his eye for a while.

And then came the Irish team. Aidan Lynch was being supported by Moran and Connolly; the second crash seemed to have dazed him and his eyes looked strangely unfocused. But he grinned happily as Troy and Quigley lifted the Cup into the air and the crowd below thundered its approval.

My hands were numb with clapping. Bella looked outraged, kicking her chair and burying her face in her hands.

"_Everything_… what on earth would he ask of me?"

* * *

**Reviews are very much appreciated ;)**


	5. the Dark Mark

**So, here is chapter five! I was absolutely chuffed with the reviews I got! I honestly can't begin to describe how excited I am about this part of the series. From now on, things'll really get more intense. And as a warning, I decided to leave some bits from the original GoB out, such as the whole thing about Ludo Bagman, and I'll probably do the Winky/Crouch thing in less detail... this is a fanfiction with OC's, so I'd like to spend more time writing about them than the plot we already know (and love) so I hope you don't mind.**

* * *

_**Ch. 5 the Dark Mark**_

POV CLAIRE GIBBS:

We were soon caught up in the crowds now flooding out of the stadium and back to their campsites. Raucous singing was borne toward them on the night air as we retraced our steps along the lantern-lit path, and leprechauns kept shooting over our heads, cackling and waving their lanterns.

"Oh I am glad I'm not on duty," muttered Mr. Weasley sleepily. "I wouldn't fancy having to go and tell the Irish they've got to stop celebrating."

When we finally reached the tents, nobody felt like sleeping at all, and given the level of noise around us, Mr. Weasley agreed that we could all have one last cup of cocoa together before turning in.

I had even managed to light a campfire all by myself, so we could sit in front of the tents by the fire and just chat a little. The Weasley brothers and Harry were still discussing the match, and Lexie was cheerfully telling Bella all about their encounter with the dark, handsome boys.

"I was so lucky they spoke French," she said. "I had to translate for Mione and Janice of course, but at least they could understand one of us. Though I believe Hermione was glad she didn't have to say anything by herself."

Hermione went beet red.

"That wasn't my fault!" she protested. "They were- I was-"

"It's all right to say you're nervous, you know," said Janice soothingly. "I was, too. But they were really nice guys."

Bella didn't seem to be completely present. Her thoughts were wandering off to someplace else. She didn't look too happy.

"You're not still moping about your lost bet, are you?" Lexie said. "I'll talk to Blaise if you want. I'm sure he won't ask anything too serious of you."

"I didn't know you and Zabini were friends," I said.

"Not best friends or anything, but, yeah, we get on quite well," she shrugged. "Though he might just be too excited about this to back down even the slightest- I still think you had it coming for you, Bella."

"It wasn't like that!" Bella snapped. "I thought it would give some closure. I'm tired of bickering all the time, you know?"

"I understand," Hermione said. "No one wants to fight for fun."

"Still, you could have solved it differently than with a bet, don't you think?" I said. "I've never known a Slytherin to contain himself when he gets the opportunity to strike. No offense, Lexie."

"No, that's all right, I know it's true," Lexie half-smiled. "I mean, if I could get myself a personal slave for an entire school year- especially if it's someone, say Harry, Harry's deliciously fun to torment- I wouldn't be able to contain myself either."

"What was that about me being deliciously fun to torment?" Harry asked suddenly.

He was sitting right across us but he'd overheard.

"Eavesdropping is incredibly rude, darling," retorted Lexie. "And as an answer to your question, you are _so _muchfun to pester. You always get pissed or flustered- it's brilliant."

And I rolled my eyes when Harry indeed blushed.

"I _don't_ do that," he muttered to Ron, who was too busy trying not to laugh.

"But let's not talk about this," Bella said crossly. "I'd like to try and pretend I'm a free person until school starts again. Tell me again about those guys…"

And once Janice, Hermione and Lexie started talking about them again, they continued until deep in the night. We were back in the tent, Ginny and Janice had already fallen asleep, but I could still hear Lexie and Hermione whispering.

"I think Hermione liked Toine the best, didn't you, Mione?"

"Well… he had very pretty eyes, yes."

"And I bet he's got a six-pack, too," Lexie sniggered. "Anyway, Léon was by far the most handsome of all of them. Did you see his arms? And his chest? I bet he spent half his life exercising."

I closed my eyes, thinking of Cedric, when I suddenly heard the twins entering the tent. I shot up straight away, expecting some kind of prank, but when I saw their faces, I knew it was serious.

"We need to get out of here," breathed George, panting. "Quickly."

I rubbed my eyes, who were heavy with sleep and I saw Lexie kick Bella to wake her up.

"Whazzup?" she asked sleepily.

"It's serious!" Fred said. "We need to leave, now!"

The noises in the campsite had changed. The singing had stopped. I could hear screams, and the sound of people running.

I slipped down from the bunk and reached for my clothes, but George, who had pulled on his jeans over his own pajamas, said, "No time, Claire- just grab a jacket and get outside - quickly!"

Eventually we all had woken up and Bella, Ginny, Hermione, Lexie, Janice, the twins and I, hurried out of the tent to meet Harry, Ron, and Mr. Weasley.

"Ten's too big a group. Fred, George, you go ahead with Ginny," he said. "Into the woods. Be careful."

Once they had trotted off into the darkness I realized what was happening. But I couldn't look for long.

"Come on, follow them," said Mr. Weasley when they were out of sight. "Stick together, I'll get the Ministry wizards."

And so, with all the chaos around us, the seven of us disappeared into the night.

* * *

POV JANICE DIGGORY:

Loud jeering, roars of laughter, and drunken yells were drifting toward them; then came a burst of strong green light, which illuminated the scene. A crowd of wizards, tightly packed and moving together with wands pointing straight upward, was marching slowly across the field.

I squinted at them… They didn't seem to have faces… Then I realized that their heads were hooded and their faces masked.

High above them, floating along in midair, four struggling figures were being contorted into grotesque shapes. It was as though the masked wizards on the ground were puppeteers, and the people above them were marionettes operated by invisible strings that rose from the wands into the air.

My stomach lurched. Two of the figures were very small. More wizards were joining the marching group, laughing and pointing up at the floating bodies.

Tents crumpled and fell as the marching crowd swelled. Once or twice I saw one of the marchers blast a tent out of his way with his wand. Several caught fire. The screaming grew louder.

The floating people were suddenly illuminated as they passed over a burning tent and I recognized one of them: Mr. Roberts, the campsite manager. The other three looked as though they might be his wife and children. One of the marchers below flipped Mrs. Roberts upside down with his wand; her nightdress fell down to reveal voluminous drawers and she struggled to cover herself up as the crowd below her screeched and hooted with glee.

"That's sick," Ron muttered, watching the smallest Muggle child, who had begun to spin like a top, sixty feet above the ground, his head flopping limply from side to side. "That is really sick…"

"Let them stop!" I said, to no one in particular. "Someone has to make them stop!"

"The Ministry wizards will," said Claire, pulling me back. "There's nothing we can do for them. Please, Janice, just come."

Bella, on the other hand, was not so easily calmed down. The alarming sight of the Muggles in the air, made her act like a bloodhound and she sped toward them, wand in hand.

"Bella!" Harry shouted, wanting to run after her. It took Hermione's and mine strength combined to keep him back.

"You better stay behind, Golden Boy," Lexie said. "You'd be a bigger reward for them than the Muggles."

She left Harry to figure out what that was supposed to mean, while my worst expectations were confirmed. I left Harry with Ron and Hermione, while I also raced toward Bella, who had only just reached the masked folks, and my heart skipped a beat when I heard her shout, "Oi, let them go, you bastards!"

I'd been running so hard I bumped into Claire and Lexie, who had come to a sudden stop a right behind Bella. One of the unoccupied masked men wheeled around and had his wand ready.

"Don't mind her, she's wasted," said Lexie, and I noticed her voice had raised an octave. I'd never heard her sound scared before.

"Completely wasted," I chimed in. "She doesn't know what she's saying…"

"I'm not wasted!" Bella shouted. "You should let these people down, they've done nothing wrong!"

"Bella, just shut up!" Claire demanded.

It seemed the masked man was not up for parley. I saw him raise his wand, and I closed my eyes, scared for what would come.

"_Nolens_!"

To my surprise, it was not the man's voice, but Lexie's. I opened my eyes and saw him turn around, and lift his wand against a fellow masked man.

"Run, you idiots!" she shouted us the three of us, who still stood gawking at the odd display.

Eventually I turned my back and together we found our way back to Hermione, Harry and Ron again.

"Bella, will you never do that to us again?" Claire gasped breathlessly.

Bella stayed silent, but nodded.

"That was too close for comfort."

"Luckily Lexie cast that spell," I heard myself say.

"I don't know how long it'll take to wear off," said the blonde girl hastily. "They'll be after us. Come on."

The coloured lanterns that had lit the path to the stadium had been extinguished. Dark figures were blundering through the trees; children were crying; anxious shouts and panicked voices were reverberating around them in the cold night air. We slowly moved through the crowd, towards the woods. I noticed everyone had their wands out.

"What will you do with them?" I whispered anxiously. "Those people- they're- they're De-"

"I know they are," whispered Lexie. "But we've lost the element of surprise. Still, if they're planning on attacking us, I'll throw some curses at them they'd never expect from a sweet little thing like me."

"Define sweet," Bella huffed.

"Aye, looks can be deceiving," said Claire, mustering the strength to grin.

The trees had started around us, but because Claire and Lexie forbade us to light up our wands, we had to walk in the dark and I'd nearly tripped four times. Then I heard Ron yell with pain.

"What happened?" said Hermione anxiously, stopping so abruptly that Harry walked into her. "Ron, where are you? Oh this is stupid - lumos!"

She illuminated her wand and directed its narrow beam across the path. Ron was lying sprawled on the ground.

"Tripped over a tree root," he said angrily, getting to his feet again.

"Well, with feet that size, hard not to," said a drawling voice from behind them.

* * *

POV LEXIE JONES:

We turned sharply. Draco Malfoy was standing alone nearby, leaning against a tree, looking utterly relaxed. His arms folded, he seemed to have been watching the scene at the campsite through a gap in the trees. My heart fluttered at the sight of him, and I cursed myself for it.

Ron told Malfoy to do something that I knew he would never have dared say in front of Mrs. Weasley.

"Language, Weasley," said Draco, his pale eyes glittering. "Hadn't you better be hurrying along, now? You wouldn't like her spotted, would you?"

He nodded at Hermione, and at the same moment, a blast like a bomb sounded from the campsite, and a flash of green light momentarily lit the trees around them.

"What's that supposed to mean?" said Hermione defiantly.

I rolled my eyes. It was obvious what he meant.

"Granger, they're after Muggles," said Malfoy. "D'you want to be showing off your knickers in midair? Because if you do, hang around… they're moving this way, and it would give us all a laugh."

"Hermione's a witch," Harry snarled.

"Harry, it's no use," I said, grabbing his arm. "C'mon."

"Have it your own way, Potter," said Draco, grinning maliciously. "If you think they can't spot a Mudblood, stay where you are."

"You watch your mouth!" shouted Ron.

"Ron, behave yourself. He wants you to get worked up, that's all there is to it," I snarled at him. "Get a move on. We need to get to your brothers and sister."

"Oh, I see," Draco huffed, turning his attention to me now. "Daddy Weasley's told you all to hide. Lexie, I must say I'm very surprised to see you running from it instead of enjoying the view with me."

I knew I had to step in quickly, say something before Bella, or Ron, or anyone else would.

"Are you?" I said coolly, not giving him the satisfaction of getting angry. "Then I believe I really hit your head. It gives me reason to think I also damaged your brain next to your nose."

Draco's silver eyes narrowed but the rest of his face gave nothing away. Ron had trouble containing himself, he was overcome with laughter. The silver eyes flashed to him, and Draco snarled, "What's your dad doing, by the way? Trying to rescue the Muggles? I'm surprised the savage was able to contain herself, Lexie's told me she's such an adrenaline junkie."

"Where're your parents?" said Harry, his temper rising. "Out there wearing masks, are they?"

Draco turned his face to Harry, smiling again.

"Well… if they were, I wouldn't be likely to tell you, would I, Potter?"

"So, nothing new, are we happy now?" said Claire urgently. "We need to find the twins and Ginny back."

"We've got an entire school year ahead to sort this out, can we not do this now?" Janice squeaked. "They're drawing closer."

"Speaking of next school year," Draco said, grinning at Bella. "I ran into Blaise right after the match…" I heard Bella groan. "Oh my, was he cheerful," he smirked. "I mean, I'd be, if I could have you as my personal slave for the entire year… I've already suggesting a few things to him, you know… it'll be truly humiliating."

"Oh come on," said Hermione, with a disgusted look at Malfoy, not giving Bella the time to snap, "let's go and find the others."

"Keep that big bushy head down, Granger," sneered Malfoy.

"And you," I said venomously, "now your nose has healed so nicely, I'd try and be careful, or someone might just accidentally smash it and break it again. That could be either Ron, Harry, Bella, Hermione or me. You've made yourself really unpopular, Draco."

With a heavy heart, and my nose in the air, I marched off, with the others trailing my steps.

"I'll bet you anything his dad is one of that masked lot!" said Ron hotly.

"Well, with any luck, the Ministry will catch him!" said Hermione fervently. "Oh I can't believe this. Where have the others got to?"

Fred, George, and Ginny were nowhere to be seen, though the path was packed with plenty of other people, all looking nervously over their shoulders toward the commotion back at the campsite. A huddle of teenagers in pajamas was arguing vociferously a little way along the path.

When they saw us, a girl with thick curly hair turned and said quickly, "Oú est Madame Maxime? Nous l'avons perdue -"

"Qui?" I said, understanding. "Á quoi elle ressemble?"

"Oh…" said the girl, looking at her friends and then at me. "You 'Ogwarts."

I nodded.

"Elle est très grande," the girl said. "Avec des cheveux bruns courts."

"Has anyone seen these girls' headmistress?" I asked my friends. "Very tall with short brown hair?"

They shook their heads.

"Non, je suis desolée," I said, shaking my head.

"Ce n'est pas grave," said the French girl, smiling. "Merci."

She and her friends walked away again.

"Er - what?" said Ron. "Did you understand any of that?"

"Beauxbatons," muttered Hermione.

"Sorry?" said Harry.

"They must go to Beauxbatons," said Hermione. "You know… Beauxbatons Academy of Magic… I read about it in An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe."

"Oh… yeah… right," said Harry.

"Fred and George can't have gone that far," said Ron, pulling out his wand, lighting it like Hermione's, and squinting up the path. I rolled my eyes. I'd rather be walking in the dark than be spotted by those masked men. Then I suddenly heard Harry shout.

"Ah, no, I don't believe it… I've lost my wand!"

"You're kidding!"

"Worst timing ever," Claire sighed.

"Maybe it fell out of your pocket whilst running?" Hermione suggested anxiously.

A rustling noise nearby made all of us jump. Winky the house-elf was fighting her way out of a clump of bushes nearby. She was moving in a most peculiar fashion, apparently with great difficulty; it was as though someone invisible were trying to hold her back.

"There is bad wizards about!" she squeaked distractedly as she leaned forward and laboured to keep running. "People high - high in the air! Winky is getting out of the way!"

And she disappeared into the trees on the other side of the path, panting and squeaking as she fought the force that was restraining her.

"What's up with her?" said Ron, looking curiously after Winky. "Why can't she run properly?"

"Bet she didn't ask permission to hide," said Harry.

"That's horrible," said Hermione.

"I don't think now's the right time," I said fervently. "Come on."

"You know, house-elves get a very raw deal!" said Hermione indignantly. "It's slavery, that's what it is! That Mr. Crouch made her go up to the top of the stadium, and she was terrified, and he's got her bewitched so she can't even run when they start trampling tents! Why doesn't anyone do something about it?"

"Well, the elves are happy, aren't they?" Ron said. "You heard old Winky back at the match… 'House-elves is not supposed to have fun'… that's what she likes, being bossed around…"

"It's people like you, Ron," Hermione began hotly, "who prop up rotten and unjust systems, just because they're too lazy to -"

Another loud bang echoed from the edge of the wood. I saw Ron give worried glances at us before he continued. Maybe Draco had been right, and Hermione was in more trouble than the rest. Besides me and Bella of course, since we practically attacked a-

"I reckon we can just wait here, you know. We'll hear anyone coming a mile off."

I looked at Harry.

"Are you sure?"

I was listening for noise from the campsite. Everything seemed much quieter; perhaps the riot was over.

"I hope the others are okay," said Janice after a while.

"They'll be fine," Claire assured her.

"Imagine if your dad catches Lucius Malfoy," said Harry, sitting down next to Ron and watching the small figure of Krum slouching over the fallen leaves. "He's always said he'd like to get something on him."

"That'd wipe the smirk off old Draco's face, all right," said Ron.

I tried not to listen. It was pathetic. Even the sound of his name made me cringe.

"Those poor Muggles, though," said Hermione nervously. "What if they can't get them down?"

"They will," said Ron reassuringly. "They'll find a way."

But she broke off abruptly and looked over her shoulder. The rest of us looked quickly around too. It sounded as though someone was staggering toward our clearing. We waited, listening to the sounds of the uneven steps behind the dark trees. But the footsteps came to a sudden halt.

"Hello?" called Harry.

"Shhh!" Claire hissed. "You don't just go calling into the night when you hear footsteps- what if it is a…"

There was silence. I got to my feet and peered around the tree. It was too dark to see very far, but I could sense somebody standing just beyond the range of my vision.

"Who's there?" Harry said.

And then, without warning, the silence was rent by a voice unlike any they had heard in the wood; and it uttered, not a panicked shout, but what sounded like a spell.

"MORSMORDRE!"

There was something familiar about that incantation, like I'd read it before… And something vast, green, and glittering erupted from the patch of darkness my eyes had been struggling to penetrate; it flew up over the treetops and into the sky.

"What the -?" gasped Ron as he sprang to his feet again, staring up at the thing that had appeared.

It was a colossal skull, comprised of what looked like emerald stars, with a serpent protruding from its mouth like a tongue. As I watched, it rose higher and higher, blazing in a haze of greenish smoke, etched against the black sky like a new constellation. I'd seen it before. I knew what it was. And it made me panic.

Suddenly, the wood all around them erupted with screams. I scanned the darkness for the person who had conjured the skull, but he couldn't see anyone.

"Who's there?" Harry called again.

"Shut up!" I hissed at him.

"Harry, come on, move!" Hermione had seized the collar of his jacket and was tugging him backward.

"What's the matter?" Harry said, startled to see her face so white and terrified.

_How stupid was he? _

"It's the Dark Mark, darling…" I said, pulling him as hard as I could. "We'd better get out of here- It's Voldemort's sign."

* * *

POV BELLA MCLAGGEN:

Harry was dumbstruck.

"Voldemort's–"

I sighed. There was no time. I grabbed his arm.

"Harry, come on!"

I turned - Ron was hurriedly scooping up his miniature Krum - the seven of us started across the clearing - but before we had taken a few hurried steps, a series of popping noises announced the arrival of twenty wizards, appearing from thin air, surrounding us.

I whirled around, and in an instant, I registered one fact: Each of these wizards had his wand out, and every wand was pointing right at us. Without pausing to think, I yelled, "DUCK!"

"STUPEFY!" roared twenty voices - there was a blinding series of flashes and I felt the hair on my head ripple as though a powerful wind had swept the clearing.

Raising my head a fraction of an inch I saw jets of fiery red light flying over them from the wizards' wands, crossing one another, bouncing off tree trunks, rebounding into the darkness—

"Stop!" yelled a voice I recognized. "STOP! That's my son!"

My hair stopped blowing about. I raised my head a little higher. The wizard in front of me had lowered his wand. It was my Dad. I rolled over and saw Mr. Weasley striding toward us, looking terrified.

"Ron -" - his voice sounded shaky - "all of you- are you all right?"

"Out of the way, Arthur," said a cold, curt voice.

It was Mr. Crouch. I recognized him from a Ministry dinner at my house. It seemed a lifetime ago. He and the other Ministry wizards were closing in on us. I got to my feet to face them. Mr. Crouch's face was taut with rage.

"Which of you did it?" he snapped, his sharp eyes darting between them. "Which of you conjured the Dark Mark?"

"We didn't do _that_!" I said, gesturing up at the skull.

"We didn't do anything!" said Ron, who was rubbing his elbow and looking indignantly at his father. "What did you want to attack us for?"

"Do not lie, sir!" shouted Mr. Crouch. His wand was still pointing directly at Ron, and his eyes were popping - he looked slightly mad. "You have been discovered at the scene of the crime!"

"Barty," whispered a witch in a long woolen dressing gown, "they're kids, Barty, they'd never have been able to."

"Where did the Mark come from?" asked my Dad quickly.

It sounded like a sigh.

"Over there," said Hermione shakily, pointing at the place where they had heard the voice. "There was someone behind the trees… they shouted words – an incantation -"

"Oh, stood over there, did they?" said Mr. Crouch, turning his popping eyes on Hermione now, disbelief etched all over his face. "Said an incantation, did they? You seem very well informed about how that Mark is summoned, missy -"

But none of the Ministry wizards apart from Mr. Crouch seemed to think it remotely likely that we had conjured the skull; on the contrary, at Hermione's words, they had all raised their wands again and were pointing in the direction she had indicated, squinting through the dark trees.

***** later that evening*****

"Look, can someone just explain what that skull thing was?" said Ron impatiently. "It wasn't hurting anyone… Why's it such a big deal?"

"I told you, it's You-Know-Who's symbol, Ron," said Hermione, before anyone else could answer. "I read about it in The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts."

"And it hasn't been seen for thirteen years," said Mr. Weasley quietly. "Of course people panicked… it was almost like seeing You-Know-Who back again."

"I don't get it," said Ron, frowning. "I mean… it's still only a shape in the sky…"

"Ron, You-Know-Who and his followers sent the Dark Mark into the air whenever they killed," said Mr. Weasley. "The terror it inspired… you have no idea, you're too young. Just picture coming home and finding the Dark Mark hovering over your house, and knowing what you're about to find inside…"

Mr. Weasley winced.

"Everyone's worst fear… the very worst."

"It was above my house," said Janice suddenly. "The night they killed my dad. I was so little, but… there was no mistaking it."

There was silence for a moment. I placed my hand on her shoulder.

Then Bill, removing the sheet from his arm to check on his cut, said, "Well, it didn't help us tonight, whoever conjured it. It scared the Death Eaters away the moment they saw it. They all Disapparated before we'd got near enough to unmask any of them. We caught the Roberts' family before they hit the ground, though. They're having their memories modified right now."

"Death Eaters?" said Harry. "What are Death Eaters?"

"Voldemort's people," I explained to him. "His helpers, so to speak."

"I think we saw what's left of them tonight - the ones who managed to keep themselves out of Azkaban, anyway," Bill said.

"We can't prove it was them, Bill," said Mr. Weasley. "Though it probably was," he added hopelessly.

"Yeah, I bet it was!" said Ron suddenly. "Dad, we met Draco Malfoy in the woods, and he as good as told us his dad was one of those nutters in masks! And we all know the Malfoys were right in with You-Know-Who!"

"Ron, that's not fair," Janice said. "They're not necessarily Death Eaters just because they're Malfoys. There's loads of nice pureblood families out there who aren't Death Eaters."

"Are any of them in Slytherin, though?" he huffed.

"Oh, marvellous!" snapped Lexie. "It's always the bad old Slytherins again, isn't it? It must feel _so_ _good_ to be able to give someone the blame. All Slytherins are evil, all Ravenclaws are stuck-up and all Hufflepuffs are dumb. yeah right. You're my friend, Ron, but why don't you open your eyes and stop seeing everything in black and white?"

* * *

**1. So, this chapter was mainly big on Bella and Lexie, I know. How do you feel about Bella storming off to meet the Death Eaters? And about Lexie using the dark curse to stop the Death Eater from causing any harm?**

**2. Whose POVs are your favourites? (really just wondering. favourite POVs doesn't always have to mean favourite characters)**

**3. Then they met Draco. On a scale of 1 to 10, how realistic and true to the books is he? Do you like him more or less than in the books? Did you ship him with Lexie? **

**4. What did you think of what Lexie said to him? (the comments about if his brain was also damaged and the last bit before they departed)**

**5. Janice's bit when she tells how she recognized the mark... I think I'll retell that moment when her dad was killed in detail, what do you think?**

**6. The end remark of this chapter. It's really the main theme when I started this series. Most people only know the Gryffindors and the rest is just bogus or something. Hufflepuffs are idiots, Ravenclaws are obsessed with books and Slytherins are evil mini-Death Eaters. Of course Janice is a bit clueless sometimes, Claire is more than fond of studying and Lexie is more than a bit wicked (stereotypes wouldn't excist is there wasn't any truth to them) but it's not all they are. What do you think?**


	6. Many 'Happy' Returns

**So, I understand it took me a really long time to update but this chapter was a real bitch. It is two chapters in one but there is also a few bits in there I just made up, like a description of the girls' Yule Ball dresses (then I won't have to do a detailed description in the Yule Ball chapter, which will already contain a lot more exciting stuff) but I hope you like it anyways. Here ya go. Thanks for the reviews I received in the mean time, by the way.  
**

* * *

_**Ch. 6 Many 'Happy' Returns**_

POV LEXIE JONES:

The next morning we went back to the Burrow as quick as we could. Everyone was oddly silent.

Last night they had caught the house-elf from the stadium with Harry's wand in hand, so the poor thing was given clothes by her master. Although everyone probably knew that a house-elf could not have known the incantation to summon the Dark Mark.

Hermione was upset, of course, this house-elf thing might just become a newly acquired hobby of hers. I agreed house-elf should be treated fair, what Mr. Crouch did was not done, but house-elves wouldn't have to be abolished completely. Some of them really liked to work and no one would hire a house-elf if they had to pay for it, so all of them would be out of a job. I think that would be much more cruel.

Anyway, the first morning back at the Burrow mainly consisted out of not being crushed by Mrs. Weasley trying to hug you. Not that I blamed her. Not everyone is as clueless as Ron. I knew what the Mark must have meant for people that had been through the First Wizarding War.

She was really quite all right. She was such a loving mother that seven children of her own were not enough to fill her huge motherly heart, I suppose. She cared for Ron's friends as much as she cared for her own kids. Even me. It was rather adorable.

But it was not only Mrs. Weasley that was having an obvious hangover (figuratively, of course. There was no alcohol involved) from last night. I sensed it in my own friends.

Especially Janice. She'd recognized the mark from one of her most terrible nightmares. The sad, haunting brown eyes could not possible have gotten any sadder, but they had last night. But it was not only sadness I saw.

Fear.

The girl was frightened just like everyone else was. She was frightened Voldemort would rise again and murder more people she loved. It was torture having to stare into those eyes, because they dragged you down like an abyss. You felt every ounce of agony looking in them. It was more effective than a hundred Dementors combined.

Claire had noticed as well, of course, and even though she was trying to be extra gentle to Janice, it did not help. It was assurance Janice needed, assurance that all would be well and the horrors would not repeat themselves. But it was an assurance no one would give. On the other hand, I would be contradicting my suspicions. And that was a lie I could not tell.

Harry could also not seem to let it go, but there was something else bugging him. There was always something. And he felt the need to tell it to someone. But not us. Not at first.

"Mrs. Weasley," said Harry suddenly, unable to contain himself, "Hedwig hasn't arrived with a letter for me, has she?"

"Hedwig, dear?" said Mrs. Weasley distractedly. "No… no, there hasn't been any post at all."

I looked curiously at Harry. With a meaningful look at me and the rest of my friends he said, "All right if I go and dump my stuff in your room, Ron?"

"Yeah… think I will too," said Ron at once. "Guys?"

"Yes," we said quickly, and the seven of us marched out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

"What's up, Harry?" said Ron, the moment he had closed the door of the attic room behind him.

"There's something I haven't told you," Harry said. "On Saturday morning, I woke up with my scar hurting again."

Hermione and Claire gasped and started making suggestions at once, mentioning a number of reference books, and everybody from Albus Dumbledore to Madam Pomfrey, the Hogwarts nurse. Janice practically started hyperventilating. Ron and Bella simply looked dumbstruck.

"But - he wasn't there, was he? You-Know-Who? I mean - last time your scar kept hurting, he was at Hogwarts, wasn't he?"

"I'm sure he wasn't on Privet Drive," said Harry. "But I was dreaming about him… him and Peter - you know, Wormtail. I can't remember all of it now, but they were plotting to kill… someone."

I glanced at him. _Someone in particular, eh?_ But I couldn't bear to say it in front of them.

"It was only a dream," said Ron bracingly. "Just a nightmare."

"Yeah," said Bella. "If every nightmare I had would come true, this would be a very wicked world."

Oh but it is, Bella, it is.

"Yeah, but was it, though?" said Harry, turning to look out of the window at the brightening sky. "It's weird, isn't it…? My scar hurts, and three days later the Death Eaters are on the march, and Voldemort's sign's up in the sky again."

"Don't - say - his - name!" Ron hissed through gritted teeth.

"And remember what Professor Trelawney said?" Harry went on, ignoring Ron. "At the end of last year?"

"Oh come on!" I snapped. "Don't be such a drama queen, Harry!"

He's way too clever for his own good. How different things would have been if he'd been sorted into my House… Hermione did know what I was doing and she followed my lead, not as convincing as I, but still.

She tried to remove the terrified expression from her face and let out a fake snort, her voice still oddly high as she said, "Oh Harry, you aren't going to pay attention to anything that old fraud says?"

"You weren't there," said Bella. "You didn't hear her. This time was different. I told you, she went into a trance - a real one. And she said the Dark Lord would rise again… greater and more terrible than ever before… and he'd manage it because his servant was going to go back to him… and that night Wormtail escaped. It was dead creepy."

There was a silence in which Ron fidgeted absentmindedly with a hole in his Chudley Cannons bedspread.

"Why were you asking if Hedwig had come, Harry?" Claire asked. "Are you expecting a letter?"

"I told Sirius about my scar," said Harry, shrugging. "I'm waiting for his answer."

"Good thinking!" said Ron, his expression clearing. "I bet Sirius'll know what to do!"

"How on earth will Sirius know?" I said disbelievingly. "Did he have a magic lightning scar manual while he was in Azkaban? I doubt even Dumbledore knows."

Harry glared. "You know, you're worse company than ever since-"

"Dare to continue and I'll hex your head off," I said coolly. "I'm not really in the mood."

"Well, I don't care," Harry said. "Because you don't get to decide what I tell you. We warned you about Malfoy, we did. Because we all care about you. But you didn't listen and now all you're doing is sneering and snapping at everything we say. And I'm done with that."

My blood was boiling and my temper rising.

"**And I'm done with you saying everything that pops into your head when you know it's out of line**," I hissed, taking on the Parseltongue.

"**And what you're saying wasn't out of line**?" said Harry, unconsciously also transferring to our own private tongue.

The idea only of Bella's face made the my lips curl into a small smile.

"**Can't we just agree upon the fact I won't say anything too nasty and you don't speak about- about him**?" I suggested.

Harry nodded. "**Fine**."

"Okay, can you please not do that again?" said Bella, shivering. "I can't get used to the sound of it."

"The sound of what?" asked Harry.

"You had a conversation in Parseltongue just now, Harry?" Claire told him. "Didn't you notice?"

"You're not really getting the hang of it yet," I smiled.

"I don't want to get the hang of it," Harry said. "If it's fine with you I'll just leave you to do the Dark Magic and Parseltongue."

"You'll miss all the fun, darling, but fine, whatever you want," I said cheerfully. "By the way, I can't wait to see all your guys' dress robes!"

"Er- what?" said Bella suddenly.

* * *

POV BELLA MCLAGGEN:

Rain lashed against the living room window. Ron and I lay on the couch(carefully crammed next to each other, so neither of us would fall off) flicking through a Quidditch magazine of mine. Hermione and Claire were immersed in The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4, copies of which Mrs. Weasley had bought for us all in Diagon Alley. Harry was polishing his Firebolt, the broomstick servicing kit Hermione had given him for his thirteenth birthday open at his feet. Janice and Lexie were skimming through the Care of Magical Creatures book, goggling at pictures of the weirdest animals. Fred and George were sitting in a far corner, quills out, talking in whispers, their heads bent over a piece of parchment.

"What are you two up to?" said Mrs. Weasley sharply, her eyes on the twins.

"Homework," said Fred vaguely.

Ron and I looked at each other, knowing that was probably a lie.

"Don't be ridiculous, you're still on holiday," said Mrs. Weasley.

"Yeah, we've left it a bit late," said George.

"You're not by any chance writing out a new order form, are you?" said Mrs. Weasley shrewdly. "You wouldn't be thinking of restarting Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, by any chance?"

"Now, Mum," said Fred, looking up at her, a pained look on his face. "If the Hogwarts Express crashed tomorrow, and George and I died, how would you feel to know that the last thing we ever heard from you was an unfounded accusation?"

Everyone laughed, even Mrs. Weasley.

"I think you'd all better go upstairs and check that you've packed properly!" said Mrs. Weasley, breaking up the argument. "Come on now, all of you… Girls, Harry, Ron, I still need you to check if you dress robes fit, all right? I'll be there in a short while to see how they go on you."

We all packed up our books and went upstairs. The rain sounded even louder at the top of the house, accompanied by loud whistling and moans from the wind, not to mention sporadic howls from the ghoul who lived in the attic.

"No one told me anything about dress robes," I hissed at Janice, who giggled.

"Oh come on, dressing up is fun, isn't it?" said Lexie, giving me a wicked sideways smile.

"Am I the only one who's morally and principally against this?" I looked at Hermione in despair.

"Difficult words, Bells, you must be really serious," sneered the Slytherin girl.

I turned around to face her.

"I've never worn a dress before, and with good reason," I told her.

"Well, me neither," Hermione said lightly. "But they said dress robes, so there must be some fancy occasion at Hogwarts this year. We can't show up in jeans and a sweatshirt, can we?"

"Don't give her any ideas, she would do it without a fuss," Claire said seriously.

"Bella, you might now look forward to it now," Janice said, "but I'm sure Mrs. Weasley's brought you a very pretty dress and once you've tried it on you'll love it and you won't even remember why you were morally and principally against it."

When we entered Ginny's room, we saw Ginny holding up a turquoise dress with pink lace. It was quite pretty, not that I would ever wear it, but still.

"Is that yours?" said Janice sweetly.

Ginny nodded. She was all right around Hermione, but the rest of us still made her nervous, I knew.

"You'll look lovely in it," Janice said.

Her eyes flashed to the other dresses on the bed. I saw a red one, a pink one, a white one, a purple one and one with black and white.

"How about we all try them on right now?" Claire suggested. "You know which one's whose, don't you, Ginny?"

When a couple of minutes and a few struggles had past, we all stood in front of Ginny's huge mirror, side by side, all in our dress robes.

"Your mom has great taste, Ginny," said Janice, fumbling on her own dress, which was half black, half white, and had an open back.

"Indeed she has," said Lexie. "Look at us all. Claire, that colour looks so great on you…"

Claire blushed happy and twirled around in her lavender coloured dress. It was strapless, elegant and there were small purple flowers at the bottom. It was great to see her this happy again. It was good to see her feel pretty.

Hermione maybe felt the prettiest of all. The light pink dress had little frilly sleeves and it slowly turned darker pink at the bottom. Especially Ron and Harry always saw her as one of the guys, and she couldn't help but smile and twirl and giggle.

"They'll be begging on their knees for you, Mione," Janice smiled at her.

"Look at me, I've got a cleavage," Lexie smirked. "I love it."

Her dress was completely white, and if you looked closer it was made of little snow flakes. It had a huge V-neck.

"So do we," I heard a voice say at the door.

I looked around.

"Fred, get out of here!" I snarled, getting brick red.

I started fidgeting and pulling my dress up and down.

"Oh, don't worry, you look fine," said Claire dryly.

"I just feel a bit- a bit flamboyant or something," I muttered. "My dress- it's all-"

The dress I wore was extremely tight and the bottom didn't widen either. It was bright red. I just felt a little- I don't know, like all the attention was drawn to me with this brightly coloured dress next to Claire's light purple, Lexie's white, Hermione's pink, Janice's black and white and Ginny's light turquoise.

"Well, a feisty girl like you shouldn't be wearing a frilly pink dress," said Fred. "It suits you, little prodigy."

"Though I'd say the 'little' is out of place," George said. "Look at her, we might start to have to fend of unwanted attention."

"Well," I said awkwardly, scratching my head, "if you could start with Zabini, that'd be great."

The twins laughed.

"We'll make sure he won't be too harsh on you," George said.

"And if he steps one toe out of line, we'll pull a hilarious prank," Fred added.

"Thanks," I breathed.

"C'mon, let's change, I can't wait to see what Harry and Ron's dress robes look like," said Lexie wickedly. "And yes, Fred and George, that's your cue to leave this room."

With an amused grin from both twins, they departed and closed the door behind them. After that, Mrs. Weasley came in to check up on all our of dresses, and was pleased to see they all fitted nicely and we liked them. When we all had changed into our normal clothes again, Claire, Janice, Lexie and I snuck up the stairs to come bursting into Ron's room.

He was holding up something that looked like a long, maroon velvet dress. It had a moldy-looking lace frill at the collar and matching lace cuffs. There was a knock on the door, and Mrs. Weasley entered, carrying an armful of freshly laundered Hogwarts robes.

"Here you are," she said, sorting them into two piles. "Now, mind you pack them properly so they don't crease."

"Mum, you've given me Ginny's new dress," said Ron, handing it out to her.

"Ginny's dress is turquoise," said Janice, nearly unable to hold back laughter.

"Of course I haven't," said Mrs. Weasley. "That's for you. Dress robes."

"What?" said Ron, looking horror-struck.

"Dress robes!" repeated Mrs. Weasley. "It says on your school list that you're supposed to have dress robes this year… robes for formal occasions."

"You've got to be kidding," said Ron in disbelief. "I'm not wearing that, no way."

Harry and I exchanged looks.

"Everyone wears them, Ron!" said Mrs. Weasley crossly. "They're all like that! Your father's got some for smart parties!"

"I'll go starkers before I put that on," said Ron stubbornly.

"Don't be so silly," said Mrs. Weasley. "You've got to have dress robes, they're on your list! I got some for Harry too… show him, Harry…"

In some trepidation, Harry opened the last parcel on his camp bed. His dress robes didn't have any lace on them at all - in fact, they were more or less the same as his school ones, except that they were bottle green instead of black.

"I thought they'd bring out the colour of your eyes, dear," said Mrs. Weasley fondly.

"Well, they're okay!" said Ron angrily, looking at Harry's robes. "Why couldn't I have some like that?"

"Because… well, I had to get yours second-hand, and there wasn't a lot of choice!" said Mrs. Weasley, flushing.

I looked at my friends. Perhaps we all could have put a little bit of our ownmoney aside for Ron to buy new dress robes. It was unfair the Weasleys had so little money.

"I'm never wearing them," Ron was saying stubbornly. "Never."

"Fine," snapped Mrs. Weasley. "Go naked. And, Harry, make sure you get a picture of him. Goodness knows I could do with a laugh."

She left the room, slamming the door behind her. There was a funny spluttering noise from behind them. Pigwidgeon was choking on an overlarge Owl Treat.

"Why is everything I own rubbish?" said Ron furiously, striding across the room to unstick Pigwidgeon's beak.

* * *

POV JANICE DIGGORY:

There was a definite end-of-the-holidays gloom in the air when I awoke next morning. Heavy rain was still splattering against the window as I got dressed in jeans, a pink T-shirt and a white blazer; we would change into our school robes on the Hogwarts Express. When we went downstairs, we saw Mrs. Weasley rush upstairs to get something for her husband, and Mr. Weasley was crouching in front of the fireplace.

"I've got a quill here somewhere!" - and Mr. Weasley bending over the fire, talking to -

My uncle's head was sitting in the middle of the flames like a large, bearded egg. It was talking very fast, completely unperturbed by the sparks flying around it and the flames licking its ears.

"… Muggle neighbours heard bangs and shouting, so they went and called those what-d'you-call-'ems - please-men. Arthur, you've got to get over there —"

"Here!" said Mrs. Weasley breathlessly, pushing a piece of parchment, a bottle of ink, and a crumpled quill into Mr. Weasley's hands.

"- it's a real stroke of luck I heard about it," said my uncle's head. "I had to come into the office early to send a couple of owls, and I found the Improper Use of Magic lot all setting off — if Rita Skeeter gets hold of this one, Arthur —"

I looked at my uncle's worried complexion in the flames.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Mad-Eye Moody says he heard an intruder in his yard," my uncle explained. "Says he was creeping toward the house, but was ambushed by his dustbins."

"What did the dustbins do?" asked Mr. Weasley, scribbling frantically.

"Made one hell of a noise and fired rubbish everywhere, as far as I can tell," said Mr. Diggory. "Apparently one of them was still rocketing around when the pleasemen turned up -"

Mr. Weasley groaned.

"And what about the intruder?"

"Arthur, you know Mad-Eye," said Mr. Diggory's head, rolling its eyes again. "Someone creeping into his yard in the dead of night? More likely there's a very shell-shocked cat wandering around somewhere, covered in potato peelings. But if the Improper Use of Magic lot get their hands on Mad-Eye, he's had it — think of his record — we've got to get him off on a minor charge, something in your department — what are exploding dustbins worth?"

"Might be a caution," said Mr. Weasley, still writing very fast, his brow furrowed. "Mad-Eye didn't use his wand? He didn't actually attack anyone?"

"I bet he leapt out of bed and started jinxing everything he saw."

"Bella!" hissed Claire, poking her friend with her elbow.

"Well, sorry, it's just, I know the man, I've met him before," Bella shrugged. "He put half of the Death Eaters in Azkaban. But he's a bit of an oddball, that one."

"I'd better hurry - you have a good term, kids," said Mr. Weasley to us, fastening a cloak over his shoulders and preparing to Disapparate. "Molly, are you going to be all right taking the kids to King's Cross?"

"Of course I will," she said. "You just look after Mad-Eye, we'll be fine."

Mrs. Weasley had braved the telephone in the village post office to order four ordinary Muggle cabs to take them into London.

"Arthur tried to borrow Ministry cars for us," Mrs. Weasley whispered to Harry as they stood in the rain-washed yard, watching the cab drivers heaving ten heavy Hogwarts trunks into their cars. "But there weren't any to spare… Oh dear, they don't look happy, do they?"

I didn't like to tell Mrs. Weasley that Muggle taxi drivers rarely transported overexcited owls, and Pigwidgeon was making an earsplitting racket. Nor did it help that a number of Filibuster's Fabulous No-Heat, Wet-Start Fireworks went off unexpectedly when Fred's trunk sprang open, causing the driver carrying it to yell with fright and pain as Crookshanks clawed his way up the man's leg.

Luckily, I was in the 'calm' cab, with Bella, Claire and Lexie, and no racketing owls or cats. Bella owl, Bitey, and Lexie's owl, Rigel were fast asleep.

"It's nothing like first year, you know," said Claire suddenly. "Going back to school."

"You mean it's not as exciting as it once was?" I said. "Yes, that's true."

"Especially this year I'm not really looking forward to it," Bella groaned. "How will I survive an entire school year as Zabini's personal slave?"

"Hope he grows bored with you," shrugged Lexie. "If he grows bored with you, he won't be bothering you any longer. Just don't give him the snappy responses he expects you to give, and you'll be rid of him in no time."

Though this was the calm cab, it was also the small cab, and we were crammed in there with four people, four trunk and two owls in their cages. All in all, we were very relieved to get out at King's Cross, even though the rain was coming down harder than ever, and we got soaked carrying our trunks across the busy road and into the station.

* * *

POV CLAIRE GIBBS:

The Hogwarts Express, a gleaming scarlet steam engine, was already there, clouds of steam billowing from it, through which the many Hogwarts students and parents on the platform appeared like dark ghosts. We set off to find seats, and were soon stowing our luggage in a compartment halfway along the train. We then hopped back down onto the platform to say good-bye to Mrs. Weasley, Bill, and Charlie.

"I might be seeing you all sooner than you think," said Charlie, grinning, as he hugged Ginny good-bye.

"Why?" said Fred keenly.

"You'll see," said Charlie. "Just don't tell Percy I mentioned it… it's 'classified information, until such time as the Ministry sees fit to release it,' after all."

"Yeah, I sort of wish I were back at Hogwarts this year," said Bill, hands in his pockets, looking almost wistfully at the train.

I raised my eyebrows.

"Why?" said George impatiently.

"You're going to have an interesting year," said Bill, his eyes twinkling. "I might even get time off to come and watch a bit of it."

"A bit of what?" said Ron.

But at that moment, the whistle blew, and Mrs. Weasley chivvied us toward the train doors.

"Thanks for having us to stay, Mrs. Weasley," said Hermione as they climbed on board, closed the door, and leaned out of the window to talk to her.

"Yeah, thanks for everything, Mrs. Weasley," said Harry.

"It was so nice of you to invite us all over," Janice nodded in agreement.

"Oh it was my pleasure, dears," said Mrs. Weasley. "I'd invite you for Christmas, but… well, I expect you're all going to want to stay at Hogwarts, what with… one thing and another."

"Mum!" said Ron irritably. "What d'you three know that we don't?"

"You'll find out this evening, I expect," said Mrs. Weasley, smiling. "It's going to be very exciting - mind you, I'm very glad they've changed the rules -"

"What rules?" said Harry, Ron, Fred, and George together. "I'm sure Professor Dumbledore will tell you… Now, behave, won't you? Won't you, Fred? And you, George?"

The pistons hissed loudly and the train began to move.

"Tell us what's happening at Hogwarts!" Fred bellowed out of the window as Mrs. Weasley, Bill, and Charlie sped away from us. "What rules are they changing?"

But Mrs. Weasley only smiled and waved. Before the train had rounded the corner, she, Bill, and Charlie had Disapparated.

Harry, Bella, Janice Ron, Hermione, Lexie and I went back to the compartment. The thick rain splattering the windows made it very difficult to see out of them. Ron undid his trunk, pulled out his maroon dress robes, and flung them over Pigwidgeon's cage to muffle his hooting.

"I almost forgot how horrible they looked," giggled Lexie.

Ron gave her death glare but sat down nonetheless.

"Bagman wanted to tell us what's happening at Hogwarts," he said grumpily, sitting down next to Harry. "At the World Cup, remember? But my own mother won't say. Wonder what —"

"Shh!" Hermione whispered suddenly, pressing her finger to her lips and pointing toward the compartment next to ours. I listened, and heard a familiar drawling voice drifting in through the open door. I felt Lexie's body tense next to me.

"… Father actually considered sending me to Durmstrang rather than Hogwarts, you know. He knows the headmaster, you see. Well, you know his opinion of Dumbledore - the man's such a Mudblood-lover - and Durmstrang doesn't admit that sort of riffraff. But Mother didn't like the idea of me going to school so far away. Father says Durmstrang takes a far more sensible line than Hogwarts about the Dark Arts. Durmstrang students actually learn them, not just the defence rubbish we do…"

Hermione got up, tiptoed to the compartment door, and slid it shut, blocking out Malfoy's voice. "So he thinks Durmstrang would have suited him, does he?" she said angrily. "I wish he had gone, then we wouldn't have to put up with him."

Lexie looked like she would have loved to say something against it, but she refrained from it.

"Durmstrang's another wizarding school?" said Harry.

"Yes," said Hermione sniffily, "and it's got a horrible reputation. According to An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe, it puts a lot of emphasis on the Dark Arts."

"Just cut off the slack about the Dark Arts, okay?" Lexie said grumpily. "It saved your ass a couple of times last year."

"I think I've heard of it," said Bella vaguely, avoiding an argument. "Where is it? What country?"

"Well, nobody knows, do they?" I said, raising my eyebrows.

"Er - why not?" said Harry.

"There's traditionally been a lot of rivalry between all the magic schools. Durmstrang and Beauxbatons like to conceal their whereabouts so nobody can steal their secrets," said Hermione matter-of-factly.

"Come off it," said Ron, starting to laugh. "Durmstrang's got to be about the same size as Hogwarts — how are you going to hide a great big castle?"

"But Hogwarts is hidden," said Hermione, in surprise. "Everyone knows that… well, everyone who's read Hogwarts, A History, anyway."

"You know _they_ didn't," I said dryly to Hermione.

"Just you two, then," said Ron. "So go on - how d'you hide a place like Hogwarts?"

"It's bewitched," I said. "If a Muggle looks at it, all they see is a moldering old ruin with a sign over the entrance saying DANGER, DO NOT ENTER, UNSAFE."

"So Durmstrang'll just look like a ruin to an outsider too?" Janice asked.

"Maybe," said Hermione, shrugging, "or it might have Muggle-repelling charms on it, like the World Cup stadium. And to keep foreign wizards from finding it, they'll have made it Unplottable -"

"Come again?"

"Well, you can enchant a building so it's impossible to plot on a map, can't you?"

"Er… if you say so," said Harry, looking at Bella who shrugged.

"But I think Durmstrang must be somewhere in the far north," said Hermione thoughtfully. "Somewhere very cold, because they've got fur capes as part of their uniforms."

"Ah, think of the possibilities," said Ron dreamily. "It would've been so easy to push Malfoy off a glacier and make it look like an accident… Shame his mother likes him…"

Janice cleared her throat. She looked at Ron and signed at Lexie, who looked properly pissed off.

The rain became heavier and heavier as the train moved farther north. The sky was so dark and the windows so steamy that the lanterns were lit by midday. The lunch trolley came rattling along the corridor, and Harry bought a large stack of Cauldron Cakes for us to share.

After a while Cedric came in. After he'd kissed me softly on lips, he sat down next to me and put his arm around me, so I leant in and placed my head on his shoulder. He'd kissed my curls, then said slowly, carefully, as though he needed to be careful not to anger her, "Bella, I've heard rumours about you."

"Probably they're just rumours," Bella said. "What was it about?"

"Er- Garett, a buddy of mine, told me you and Blaise Zabini made a bet-"

Bella groaned and let herself fall back against the walls of the compartment, closing her eyes.

"So I guess that's true," Cedric said, chuckling softly. "Well, if he's giving you a rough time, just tell me."

"And what will you do?" Lexie said, smiling amusedly. "Will you blind him with your shiny white teeth?"

Cedric blushed and coughed.

"Garett said he heard something about him that would 'keep him in line'," Cedric explained.

"How very- er-" started Lexie, looking at Ron, "_Slytherinish_ of you."

"Is that even a real word?" I asked. "Mostly I'm not that fond of blackmailing, but I shudder to think of what he might make you do. And they say he's one of the kindest Slytherins."

"I suppose they've never met him," Bella grunted. "I bet he can't wait to release his wrath upon me."

"Speaking of wrath," Lexie said, "I bet Selwyn can't wait to take his revenge on me."

"Didn't he fail his school exams because of you?" Janice blurted out.

"What?" said Cedric. "Never mind, actually, I don't think I want to know."

"Oh, I'm sure she would be pleased to tell you, last year she was bragging all about how she'd flung him against a wall to me," drawled a familiar voice.

Draco Malfoy had appeared in the doorway. I bet he did not take what Lexie had said to him at the World Cup very well. Behind him stood Crabbe and Goyle, his enormous, thuggish cronies, both of whom appeared to have grown at least a foot during the summer. Evidently they had overheard the conversation through the compartment door, which Cedric had left ajar.

"Don't remember asking you to join us, Malfoy," said Harry coolly.

"Weasley… what is that?" said Malfoy, pointing at Pigwidgeon's cage.

A sleeve of Ron's dress robes was dangling from it, swaying with the motion of the train, the moldy lace cuff very obvious. Ron made to stuff the robes out of sight, but Malfoy was too quick for him; he seized the sleeve and pulled.

"Look at this!" said Malfoy in ecstasy, holding up Ron's robes and showing Crabbe and Goyle, "Weasley, you weren't thinking of wearing these, were you? I mean - they were very fashionable in about eighteen ninety…"

"If I had wanted to talk about fashion I would have invited Blaise," Lexie snapped at him. "Sod off, haven't you got anything better to do?"

"Eat dung, Malfoy!" said Ron, the same color as the dress robes as he snatched them back out of Malfoy's grip.

Malfoy howled with derisive laughter; Crabbe and Goyle guffawed stupidly.

"So… going to enter, Weasley? Going to try and bring a bit of glory to the family name? There's money involved as well, you know… you'd be able to afford some decent robes if you won…"

"What are you talking about?" snapped Ron.

"Are you going to enter?" Malfoy repeated. "I suppose you will, Potter? You never miss a chance to show off, do you?"

Lexie looked absolutely furious.

"Though I agree with you on that matter, I thought I told you to-"

"Hang on," said Harry, "even when you're fighting with him you're on his side?"

"I'm not on fighting with him, this is me trying not to blast him out of the window with a curse."

"Oh, you're really pissed, aren't you?" Malfoy said, smirking. "Did I hit a nerve, Lexie?"

Before I could let any of them say something, I said calmly, "Either explain what you're on about or go away, Malfoy."

A gleeful smile spread across Malfoy's pale face.

"Don't tell me you don't know?" he said delightedly. "You've got a father and brother at the Ministry and you don't even know? My God, my father told me about it ages ago… heard it from Cornelius Fudge. But then, Father's always associated with the top people at the Ministry… Maybe your father's too junior to know about it, Weasley… yes… they probably don't talk about important stuff in front of him…"

Laughing once more, Malfoy beckoned to Crabbe and Goyle, and the three of them disappeared. Ron got to his feet and slammed the sliding compartment door so hard behind them that the glass shattered.

"Ron!" said Hermione reproachfully, and she pulled out her wand, muttered "Reparo!" and the glass shards flew back into a single pane and back into the door.

"Oh, this is going to be a marvellous school year!" Bella said, her voice full of sarcasm. And we weren't even at Hogwarts yet.

* * *

**Reviews would be lovely, thanks already. Next chapter won't take that long, probably. The further I'll get with the story, the more I'll enjoy it so the sooner I'll post, probably.  
1. I think next chapter will contain some Blaise, perhaps just after they've arrived. What's your opinion about Blaise? I think he's mean in a funny way, and I love to hate him. How about you?  
2. As I already told you, this part of the series will contain more OC's. We'll see more of Petyr Selwyn (the guy who can drink Lexie's blood), Léon (the french dude) will come back, and Garett (a friend of Cedric's) will also come forward later on. But what house should I put him in? I can't make up my mind. I doubting, either Ravenclaw or Huffpuff. What do you think? Do we want Garett in Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw?  
3. And for those of us who like Cho, the good news is there will be more of her than just a mention, bad news is, you'll probably hate her guts. This fanfiction is not Cho-friendly. It probably won't be Garett-friendly either, but I also haven't quite made up my mind about that. Do we want evil-Garrett or nice-Garett? **


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